Restoration
by TwiLoverSue
Summary: Resigned to her lonely fate, Bella risks her life to rescue a man left for dead by enemy soldiers. Edward turns out to be a little more than she bargained for, his presence awakening dangerous desires and inspiring dreams that could change her life—and the course of a Kingdom—forever. Loosely inspired by Cinderella.
1. Chapter 1

A/N

Hello Everyone!

It's great to be back after a year spent reworking, rewriting, and editing A Forbidden Love for publication. Innocence, A Forbidden Love – Book One, is now available on Amazon and through The Writer's Coffee Shop, which is very exciting. The sequel, Protection, comes out next May, and the first book in my Hearts of Honour series, Passion and Propriety, comes out in August 2014. All the details are on my profile page if you'd like to know more.

Thank you to Katmom for prereading this story for me – and helping me survive this crazy year.

I hope you enjoy my new story.

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Chapter 1

The sound of galloping hooves jolted Bella from her daydreaming, and she took cover in the frost-covered shrubbery. She didn't normally venture into the forest this late in the season, but her step-sisters were in need of new gowns for the Coronation Ball . . . or so they insisted. Their tastes far exceeded the funds available in the family's coffers, so Bella had been ordered to make another trip to forage for black truffles while the valuable fungus were still fruiting.

She didn't mind. While the trapper's hut she had made her own was primitive to say the least, the chance to escape her step-mother's ire for a few days was worth the lonely nights and uncomfortable days spent digging in the half-frozen mud . . . but not falling prey to bandits or enemy soldiers.

From her hiding place on a ridge, she saw a lone rider racing at breakneck speed along the path below, a half dozen soldiers on his tail. The leader of the pack raised his bow, and Bella's hand rose to her mouth. Stifling a cry, she watched his arrow fly through the air, striking the fleeing man in the back and sending him tumbling to the ground. The man's horse galloped on without him, his pursuers reining their mounts to a halt in time to see their prey go tumbling down the steep, brush-covered bank that led to the river.

"Do we go after him, Captain?" one of the soldiers shouted, the blue insignia on their cloaks confirming their identities . . . Prince Caius's men.

"No, he was probably just a decoy. We'll return to make sure he's dead once the prince has been captured."

Riding back the way they had come, the soldiers sprayed mud in their wake, oblivious to Bella huddled in the undergrowth. Collecting the truffles she'd already unearthed in one of the pockets of her skirt, she contemplated her options. Being in the vicinity when the soldiers returned was not one of them, but leaving without checking on the man didn't sit well with her conscience.

He was as good as dead. If being shot by an arrow and the fall hadn't killed him, he'd probably drowned and been swept away in the fast flowing current. The odds of him surviving were negligible . . . but not non-existent, she conceded with a slump of her shoulders.

In the ten minutes it took her to clamber down the steep embankment, Bella second-guessed her decision to see if he had survived several times. The village was abuzz with talk that Prince Edward was returning to the Kingdom for his father's coronation now that his uncle, the much hated King Aro, was dead. If the man was one of the prince's guards or companions, he _might _be trustworthy, but she'd do well to be cautious.

A clap of thunder sounded almost directly overhead, and Bella increased her pace down the slippery embankment. A storm was coming. She'd been about to head back to her tiny cabin hidden deep in the forest when the attack had occurred. She should leave . . . now. The man wasn't her responsibility, and a rescue party would surely come searching for him. Then again, if he'd been used as a decoy, his life might not be considered valuable enough to waste precious resources searching the dense forest, not with Caius's men on the warpath.

Life was cheap in the Kingdom of Volterra, at least, it had been under Aro's brutal reign. There was talk that the new king would usher in a more humane era, along with an end to the border wars that had cost so many lives. Her father had admired Prince Carlisle before his banishment, and Bella hoped, for the sake of her fellow Volterrans, that his reign would be different to his brother's. With her life and future held in the hands of the heartless woman her father had so unwisely wed not long before his death, she doubted a change in monarch would have much impact on her own situation.

Slipping the last few yards down the muddy bank, she spotted the man's red trimmed cloak caught on some bushes near the river's edge. It seemed the prickly shrubs, normally to be avoided at all costs, were all that had stood between the rider and certain death in the icy river . . . that's if he wasn't dead already.

Wary of meeting the fate the man had avoided, and of the man himself, Bella inched closer. A maiden alone in the forest was vulnerable to all sorts of predators, and she hadn't survived the years since her father's death by taking foolish risks.

Pulling back the branch that blocked the fallen man's body from view, she startled at the sight of his green eyes peering out of the shadows and the knife he held poised to throw.

"A girl?" He blinked twice. "You're not one of Caius's men come to finish me off. Are you?"

Not expecting him to be immediately armed and dangerous, Bella was tempted to let go of the branch and make a run for it, but she could hardly blame him for being cautious.

"I'm not here to hurt you," she said, and he lowered the knife. "I saw you get shot and came to see if you had survived."

"Came to see if there was anything valuable on my person you could pinch, you mean."

It was Bella's turn to blink. "Are you calling me a thief?"

"Well, aren't you?" He reached over his shoulder to tug at the arrow she assumed must still be embedded in his flesh. To her surprise, he didn't even wince, seeming more annoyed than anything.

"No, I'm not a thief." Tempted to release the branch and let it smack him in the face, she hesitated for a moment before snapping it back so it would stay out of the way. "I just happened to witness the attack and came to see if you needed my help, but if you'd rather I left you to it . . ."

She turned away, and he lunged forward, grabbing hold of the hem of her skirt.

"Don't go!"

Bella cursed her stupidity. She shouldn't have come close enough to be caught, but he'd moved with far greater agility than she would have expected for a man with an arrow in his back.

"There's a storm coming." She raised her chin in a show of defiance, but there was nothing she could do about the tremor in her voice. "If you hurt me, I won't help you climb out of here, and you'll die . . . from exposure or when Caius's men return to finish you off."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, sounding affronted. "I'm a gentleman."

Bella would have laughed if she hadn't been so frightened. The title didn't mean much in these parts, not like it had when her father was a knight in the King's court before Aro had become corrupted by power and greed.

If appearance was a measure of character, she might have been reassured, as the young man certainly looked presentable. Even hidden in the shadows, she could tell his clothes were of the finest quality, and his features were both handsome and regal. With his high, wide brow, chiselled jaw, and slightly reddish tinge to his hair—a common trait amongst royalty—she wouldn't have been surprised to find out he _was _the prince. Of course, that would make him a fool for leaving his escorts and riding off alone.

"You have my word of honour that no harm will come to you for assisting me." He let go of her skirt, and Bella released the breath she was holding. "But if what you say about a storm is true, we need to get moving."

"It's true, all right." She shrugged. It wasn't hard to read the signs, and she wondered if he'd been addled in the fall. Quite aside from the occasional clap of thunder, the wind had picked up, and heavy black clouds darkened the sky. Once the floodgates opened, which could happen any moment, they would both be soaked to the skin. Well, Bella would be. Her thin, woollen cloak had long since lost any water repelling effects of the lanolin in its fibres. The gentleman's cloak, on the other hand, would offer far more protection from the elements . . . if they could get it free from the briars holding him fast.

"How badly are you hurt?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. "You're a little pale, but don't appear weak from blood loss. Did the arrow not go deep? I'm assuming the shaft snapped off when you rolled down the hill."

"It did." Sitting up as far as he could without getting further caught in the prickly branches, he reached behind him to tug a leather satchel over his head. "The arrow lodged itself in my bag, not me. I don't think it even pierced the skin, though the force knocked me from my horse."

"Lucky." Bella studied the arrowhead where it had penetrated several layers of leather and two thirds of a thick journal. "Were you winded in the fall? Is that why you haven't tried to crawl out?"

"No, it's these accursed thorns . . . and I've hurt my ankle." He tried to move his left leg before wincing and falling back. "I don't _think _it's broken, at least, I hope not."

"So do I." Bella glanced back the way she had come—the way they had bothcome—down the steep bank. This was going to be harder than she'd thought, her hopes plummeting further when the first fat drops of rain began to fall. Stuck, as he was, and with time running out, she had no choice but to untie the man's cloak, leaving it behind when she dragged him out of the thicket.

"Bloody hell," he muttered when he was finally free of the spiky thorns snagging his clothing and scratching at his skin. "You damned near skewered me, woman."

"Watch your language, and I'm a lady," she said automatically before checking his reaction to the mild rebuke. He seemed surprised, not overly offended, but she silently cautioned herself to _try _and avoid provocation. Holding her tongue wasn't Bella's strong suit, her somewhat acerbic wit earning her many a slap from her step-mother and sisters.

Helping the gentleman to stand, she slung his arm over her shoulders, steadying him when he swayed on his one good foot. Out of the shadows, he was even more handsome than she'd first thought, paler too, a gash in his hairline that she hadn't spotted sending blood trickling down the side of his face. The sooner she got him back to the cabin and tended to his wounds the better, a feat easier described than accomplished.

"What do you mean you're a lady?" he asked when they paused halfway up the bank to catch their breaths. "Where are your chaperones, your protectors? You shouldn't be wandering in the forest alone. It's far too dangerous."

"You won't hear any argument from me." Bella wrapped her calloused, nail-torn fingers around a tree root and resumed the difficult task of dragging them both up the muddy incline. "Let's just say I _used _to be a lady," she added between panted breaths. "And despite my rather drastic change in circumstances, I've not yet developed a fondness for crude speech."

To her surprise, a flush of colour appeared in his cheeks, making him appear younger . . . harmless. Then they reached a section where they could stand, and he let his weight rest on Bella's shoulders while he steadied himself, reminding her of his far greater height and strength.

The prince's man might be pretty to look at, but she was taking a risk helping him, one she hoped she didn't come to regret.

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Just a short first chapter, but the next one is longer and will be up for Christmas. I'd love to hear what you think. If you have any questions, about the story or for me, pop them in a review, and I'll do my best to answer them at the end of next chapter.

If you'd like to win a paperback or ebook copy of Innocence, check out my web page at elisedesallier dot com and click on the Rafflecopter link. Competition closes on January 3rd 2014. The link is also on my Facebook author page – Elise de Sallier Author - under Giveaways, and is very easy to enter. You could also 'like' my page while there, if you're so inclined. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

I'd like to say a huge thank you to everyone for their incredible support for Restoration and for my book release. I can't believe how many of you have bought Innocence on Kindle, and I'm utterly astonished by those who've ordered the paperback considering how expensive it is. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! To my amazement, Innocence (A Forbidden Love – Book One) made the Amazon Top 100 in two different lists – Kindle eBooks, Romance, Historical, Regency, and Books, Romance, Regency. It was only there for a day, but it was so exciting to make a list . . . any list!

Thank you to Katmom and Snakubie for applying their awesome prereader and beta skills to this chapter

A huge thank you to Falling Snow Winter for making a lovely banner for Restoration. As soon as I have a version that will fit on FFnet, I'll put it up. My stories are now also up on Fiction Pad as a back up in case I get removed from this site. You can see the larger version of the banner there, or check it out on my facebook pages, Elise de Sallier Author or just Elise de Sallier.

Now on with the tale . . .

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Chapter 2

"You can rest here while I secure the place and stir up the fire." Bella helped her sodden companion to take the only seat in the one room cabin. The chair was a flimsy affair she'd found thrown on a rubbish heap and mended with twine. After waiting a second to make sure it would hold his weight, she ventured back out into the rain and pulled the brush screens she'd made across the trail to the cabin's door, effectively hiding it from view. There was nothing she could to do to disguise the smoke that would soon be billowing from the chimney, but they were a long way off the track, and she hoped it would be lost amongst the misty crags of the mountain against which the cabin was nestled. Foregoing a fire wasn't an option, for if they didn't dry out their clothes and warm their near-frozen bodies, an intruder would be the least of their worries.

The journey from the river to the cabin had been brutal, the man's injured ankle slowing them to a crawl in places. Mud-covered and soaked to the skin, Bella shivered as she coaxed the fire to life. Once she had a modest but respectable blaze, the flue, thankfully, drawing as it should, she turned back to her guest.

"We need to get you out of those wet clothes," she said, undoing the buttons on his coat with stiff fingers. "Your lips are blue, and I don't like the look of that gash on your head. If you pass out, I won't be able to get you up off the floor."

He nodded jerkily, offering no resistance when she tugged his dripping coat off his shoulders and down his arms. It was only when his shirt was removed, leaving his muscular chest bared, that she questioned her actions.

"It's all right," he said when her eyes widened. "Even if I had the strength, I would never hurt a lady . . . or any woman for that matter."

Bella's gaze shot to his face. It wasn't fear that had motivated her reaction, and she was embarrassed to feel a flush of warmth in her cheeks. Turning away from his half-naked body, she hung the man's coat on the rope line she'd strung across one corner of the room. Taking one of the thin quilts off the end of the cabin's only cot, she passed it to him, keeping her gaze averted while he wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Once I've tended to your injuries, you can remove the rest of your wet clothing, and I'll hang them up to dry. The bed will be a little short for you, but it will have to do, as you'll need to raise your ankle."

"What about you?" He took the towel she passed him and, avoiding the cut on his forehead, began drying his hair, sending it sticking out in every direction.

"What about me?" Bella asked, struggling to hide a smile.

"You must be exhausted after practically hauling me all this way. I don't feel right about taking your bed."

"I'll be fine." She shrugged. It wouldn't be the first time she'd slept on the floor, though at least she would have a fire and could make a pallet with the thin blankets she had managed to scavenge over the years.

After pressing a clean rag against the cut on his forehead, indicating he should hold it in place, she began the difficult task of removing the knee-length boot from his uninjured leg. Tugging hard enough to yank him partway off the chair, she huffed in frustration when it didn't budge.

"I hate to say this." He raised a hand to call a halt when she went to try again. "But you're going to have to straddle my leg. It's the only way you'll get the boot off now it's wet."

"Wonderful." Bella huffed a second breath. It was an intimate task, one she had seen her mother perform for her father when his valet wasn't available, certainly not one she felt comfortable performing for a virtual stranger. Deciding it was past time she introduced herself, she reached out her hand.

"I'm Bella," she said, smiling wryly when he grasped the ends of her fingers, his expression uncertain. She gave his hand a shake, a common greeting, having had no expectation that he would either bow over her hand or kiss the back of her fingers.

"I'm Edward," he replied, and her smile faded.

"But that's the prince's name."

"Not exclusively," he said dryly. "He's been known to share."

"So you're saying you're _not _the prince?"

He eyed her warily, and a lump formed in Bella's throat. If he was King Carlisle's heir, she understood his reluctance to disclose his identity, as the price on his head was sure to be exorbitant. But where that left her, she didn't know. Rebuking a member of royalty for bad manners after dragging them through a thicket would have been cause for severe punishment under Aro's reign, regardless of one's motivation.

"How about we get my boots off, so we can see what damage I've done to this ankle," Edward said, skirting the answer. "The pain is getting rather unpleasant, although the pounding in my head is providing a distraction."

"Very well then." Bella wiped her hands on her skirt before doing the almost unthinkable. Straddling his thigh, she bent over with her bottom virtually in his face, and took hold of the prince's foot. The boot didn't budge despite her using considerable force.

"It might help if I steady you, my lady," he said, grabbing hold of her hips when she would have fallen.

"Just Bella." She shot him a glance over her shoulder, and he offered an apologetic smile. This time, she had better luck . . . other than landing in the prince's lap when the boot finally came free. Scrambling to her feet, she turned to face him, red-faced.

"I'm so sorry, my lord, I mean your Highness, I mean—"

"Edward will do, and there's nothing to apologise for. If it weren't for you coming to my aid . . ." His words trailed away, and she nodded shakily.

"Removing the other boot the same way isn't an option," he added. "You'll have to cut it off."

"Cut it off?" Bella frowned. "But it would be ruined."

"So? I have other pairs and can purchase more."

Appalled by the idea of destroying something so finely made, she studied the boot in her hands before placing it aside. "Of course. How silly of me," she said in a small voice, having forgotten what it was like to have the luxury of treating one's possessions with such little regard. There was a time when she wouldn't have considered the gowns she was reduced to wearing fit for rags, not that she'd had to do the polishing back then. Her father had employed servants to keep their household running . . . maids, a laundress, kitchenhand . . . all roles she now filled with scant help and no thanks. That's when she wasn't out foraging in the forest for truffles or collecting herbs for the salves and tonics she made and sold for her stepmother at the markets.

Fetching a knife from the shelf where she kept her few cooking utensils, Bella turned back to see Edward looking around the cabin, a frown marring his brow. When his gaze returned to her, it lingered on the patches and frayed hem of her gown.

"I'll make sure you're recompensed for helping me, but you're welcome to keep the boots. Perhaps you could salvage them if you cut along the seam?" He gestured to the almost invisible stitches that formed a line up the back.

"Perhaps." Bella raised her chin. She hadn't gone to his aid with any thought of payment in mind, but she had already come to the same conclusion about his boots. If she didn't damage them too badly, the local cobbler would be able to repair and sell them, earning her some valuable coins she _might _be able to keep out of her stepmother's hands.

Kneeling down, she carefully cut along the line of almost invisible stitching. Doing her best not to jostle Edward's injured ankle in the process, she rested it on her lap.

"I'd say not to, that you'll muddy your skirt, but . . ."

Bella looked up to meet his rueful gaze. "Since I'm already well covered, what's a bit more?"

He smiled, his green eyes sparkling and forming little lines at the corners. His teeth were white and even, a rarity, and a rather delightful looking dimple had formed in one cheek. Even pale and with his hair resembling a haystack, he was the best looking young man she had ever encountered. When she realised she was gaping, Bella snapped her mouth shut and focused on her task.

"I can't imagine anyone stumbling upon this cabin, as it's so well hidden, but it doesn't seem overly secure," he said of the ramshackle structure, one she had worked hard to make habitable. "I lost my sword in the fall—can't believe I didn't think to search for it, though I suppose I was a bit dazed. Do you have anything with which to defend yourself."

"My wits." She smiled at her jest, but it fell when she considered his valid concern. "The path you were riding on is rarely used, as it's blocked by a rock fall farther along the way. This part of the forest sees few visitors other than me. I overheard the captain who shot you say he'd be back to make sure you were dead, but I trailed your cloak towards the river, so hopefully he will think you've been swept away."

"Wise indeed." Edward smiled, but she refused to become distracted this time.

"A visitor, you say. You don't live here permanently?" He seemed bemused by the idea, not that she could blame him. Her quarters back home were the meanest her stepmothercould provide, but they were plush in comparison to the cabin's meagre furnishings.

"Not permanently, no," she said, though the thought had crossed her mind. Her step-mother, would never find her if she chose to remain living in the forest. The thought of thwarting the woman, whose rage at losing the income and service her step-daughter provided would be formidable, was tempting. But Bella was a realist. She wouldn't survive the winter, the loneliness, or knowing she had abandoned the servants who had become both family and friends since her parents' deaths. Running away to another village wasn't an option, as she'd only be caught and dragged back or find herself in an even worse situation. At least living in her father's home, if no longer as a member of the family, she could do what she could to protect the other servants from her step-mother's cruelty, just as they looked out for her.

"I live in—" She almost said Forks but cut herself off at the last moment, shooting the prince a wary glance. There was probably no harm in revealing such a detail, but ingrained wariness tempered her words. "—one of the villages between here and the palace."

"What are you doing in the forest?" he asked, and she met his curious gaze. "If your husband or father were accompanying you, I'm sure you would have mentioned them. Have you run away?"

She shook her head. Mindful of Edward's winces, she cut carefully as she reached his ankle. "I come here for a few days or a week at a time, gathering herbs in the warmer months and truffles when they're in season. We sell them at the markets."

"We?" He grimaced as she removed the boot then his long woollen sock.

"My, er . . . _family,_" she said after a pause. Claiming a husband or father would be coming to check on her might have offered an added layer of protection besides Edward's word that he would not harm her, but she doubted he would believe her at this late date.

"What about your men?" she asked while examining his swollen, discoloured ankle. "They'll come looking for you, won't they?"

"Eventually. Once they make it to the palace and realise I didn't arrive. In hindsight, breaking off from my companions wasn't my wisest decision, but I wanted to give them a chance to escape and thought my superior horse could outrun our attackers."

"Their horses, maybe, but not an arrow." Bella felt along the bones in his foot and ankle, searching for a break.

"No, not an arrow." He ground the words between his teeth, flinching as she poked and prodded. "What's the verdict?"

"Not _obviously _broken." She looked up at him. "No bones poking through the skin, and I can't feel any gaps or overlaps."

"Then why does it hurt so much?"

"Because you've got a nasty sprain." She propped his foot on an upturned bucket and went to fetch a small jar of salve. "I'll make you something for the pain, and this should help bring down the swelling. After I've rubbed it in, I'll bandage the ankle for support. Hopefully it won't take too long to heal, but I can't see you walking on it for a few days."

"A few days!" He went to rise from the chair, before collapsing back, the colour leeching from his face. "I can't stay here that long. My father needs me."

"I don't see that you have much choice." Bella shrugged and got on with tending his ankle. "_If _I could get word to your men without getting myself captured by Caius's men in the process, they could carry you out of here. But they won't know you didn't make it until they reach the palace—"

"Then they'll have to return, with a much larger force, and begin the search," he finished with a sigh.

"Don't worry. I have enough supplies to keep us for a few days, and I can check my traps once the weather clears. We won't starve."

"That's something, I suppose," he muttered before heaving another sigh. "Forgive me, Bella. You've gone out of your way to help me, and I'm showing a decided lack of gratitude."

"I understand." A wave of shyness overtook her, making it difficult to meet his gaze. He was an important man in the Kingdom, and she was next to nobody with her father gone. He was also very handsome, a fact that had no bearing on their situation but one she found unsettling.

"You've got the coronation to attend, and then there's the alliance everyone is talking about, the possibility of peace."

"Peace." At his grim tone, she looked up in time to see him pull a face. "At the price of my marrying King Marcus's daughter."

"You don't want to marry Princess Rosalie?" Bella blinked in surprise. The neighbouring King's eldest daughter was renowned to be the most beautiful lady in the three Kingdoms.

Edward shrugged. "A choice would be nice."

"A choice." Bella couldn't recall the last time she'd had a say in what happened in her life. She shuddered to think who her stepmother would choose for her husband. The only reason she hadn't been married off to the highest bidder already—old, decrepit, cruel . . . none of it mattered as long as his purse was fat—was because she was more valuable in her current role. With her nineteenth birthday approaching, her time was running out.

After bandaging Edward's ankle with strips of cloth she tore from the hem of her spare petticoat, she made him a willow bark brew for the pain. It was only after he'd drunk it all, grimacing at the bitter taste but offering no complaint, that she examined the cut on his forehead. It had stopped bleeding and wasn't as deep as she'd feared. Wrapping a bandage around his head to hold a fresh cloth in place over the wound, she sighed with relief that stitches wouldn't be necessary.

"All done," she said, and turned her back on him. "If you could remove the rest of your garments and get in the bed, I'll hang them up to dry."

"Then you must change out of your wet clothes, and get some rest," he said. "You look frozen to the bone."

Bella opened her mouth to argue, as her list of chores was barely begun, but he was right . . . about her needing to get dry and warm, at any rate. As soon as he was settled in the bed, she reached for the towel, her only one, and wiped her face. It came away stained with mud, the rain that had washed Edward's face clean apparently not having done her the same favour. Her reflection in the fragment of mirror she kept on a shelf confirmed her fears, and she shook her head at the sight of her mud-smeared face. Quite aside from her ragged clothes and lack of escort, it was little wonder he had sounded surprised when she'd said she was a lady. After fetching a bowl of water from the bucket she kept near the door, she took a moment to wash her face. Then she removed her head scarf, unwound her braids, and towel dried her long, brown hair.

A quick glance revealed Edward had turned to face the wall, allowing her some privacy. Quickly removing her mud splattered gown, she put it aside to be scrubbed before taking off her damp petticoat, chemise, and bloomers. Nervous about being naked in a room with a man, Bella's fingers shook as she donned a clean chemise, pantaloons, and her spare dress. Even more drab than the one she'd removed, it hung limply without a petticoat, not enough left of her tattered spare to bother with. Lifting her crocheted shawl off a hook, she wrapped it around her shoulders and huddled near the fire for a moment while she ran her comb through hair. Once she'd stopped shivering, she put a kettle on to boil, stifling a moan at the thought of a hot cup of tea.

"You can turn around now, if you like, then I'll get us something to eat," she said after she'd hung her unmentionables up to dry in the minimal space remaining. Their presence was no more embarrassing than Edward's breeches hanging on the line, she supposed, but she couldn't keep her face from flaming. Intent on fetching the bread and cheese she kept stowed in a box beside the bed, she stepped from the shadows into the light of the lantern she'd lit so as to be able to see to remove his boot.

"Hell and damnation," Edward swore and caught hold of her arm.

"What is it?" Bella searched his face for answers. "Is the pain worse? Are you going to be ill?"

"No, I just hadn't realised how beautiful you are."

Stunned by his words, she stood frozen while he twined a waist-length lock of her hair around his fingers.

"I could see you had lovely eyes, like a doe's with such long lashes, but with your face muddied and your hair hidden by your scarf . . ." His eyes darkening, he tugged her towards him, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

Suspecting he was going to kiss her, Bella's heart pounded in her chest. She'd never been kissed before, and she couldn't deny the thought of touching her lips to Edward's was enticing, until she considered the ramifications. He was a man, not a boy, and wouldn't be satisfied with kisses alone. With mere inches between them, she came to her senses.

"You promised." She pressed a hand to his bare shoulder.

"That I wouldn't hurt you, and I have no intention of hurting you." His voice, a low, husky rasp, and the intensity of his gaze caused a strange fluttering in Bella's stomach. "But you're right." He released her with a sigh. "There are other ways to harm a lady, and it wouldn't be very honourable of me to take advantage of one who had gone to such lengths to save my life."

Stepping back, Bella was torn between feeling grateful and disappointed that he'd remembered he was a gentleman. What that said about her claim to having once been a lady, she wasn't sure.

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A/N

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. To answer a few of your questions -

1) I'll be posting weekly if possible (chapter 4 is nearly ready to go off to my betas) but I'm trying to avoid burnout. If I manage to write ahead, I'll post more frequently once the story is finished.

2) Yes, this story is inspired by both Cinderella and Ever After, but only loosely.

3) No, there won't be a glass slipper or any magic. While I've started writing a paranormal romance series in a medieval setting, I'm keeping this one 'real'.

4) You guessed it! The man was Edward . . . who else?! ;)

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews for Restoration. They put a smile on my face every time. I'm sorry I wasn't able to reply to many. With preparing for Christmas, a book release, and wanting to get the next chapter of Restoration written, it just wasn't feasible, but please know I read and thoroughly appreciate each and every one. :)

Finally, I have a favour to ask of anyone interested in helping support my publishing endeavours.

I now have three reviews on Amazon for Innocence, all five star which is exciting. I've quite a few more reviews on Goodreads, some good, but also a stack of one and 2 star reviews from people who either don't approve of P2P or who just didn't like the story (my hero is a jerk, my heroine too innocent, the ending is too abrupt, the plot is predictable...that sort of thing). While I totally understand that not everyone will like my writing style or stories, I know from all the support I've received from my fan fiction readers that there are lots of people who _do _like them

So . . . if you wouldn't mind taking the time to add a review to either Amazon or Goodreads, saying what you _liked_ about the story (that's if you did, of course!), I would be very grateful.

Merry Christmas everyone!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews and support for this story. I'm sorry I didn't manage to reply to many reviews this last week, but it's been a bit busy! I hope you've all had a happy and blessed holiday season.

Thank you, also, to all the amazing people who have bought a copy of Innocence, some even leaving fantastic reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. I'm gobsmacked.

Special thanks to my lovely prereaders/betas, Katmom and NKubie,for all their help and for putting up with my endless obsessing!

* * *

Chapter 3

The girl's hands shook as she poured tea into a chipped cup on the table by the bed. Edward hadn't meant to frighten her, acting purely on instinct when she'd moved out of the shadows and come close enough for him to touch. Desire had never hit him so strongly before, but he'd forced it aside when he saw the fear in her eyes, wanting to reassure her she was safe with him—safe _from_ him.

Having never bedded an unwilling serving girl, he wasn't about to start now. In truth, he'd rarely taken advantage of what was freely offered. Unlike his younger brother, Emmett, who could charm the birds from the trees and would happily tumble anything in a skirt, he wasn't comfortable around women and found casual couplings not to his liking. Ignoring the ribald teasing he received for his conservative inclinations, he had eventually decided to hold out for . . . more. Jasper, his best friend, shared Emmett's eye for the ladies, but he seemed to understand Edward's desire for something other than what was expected of a young man in his privileged position.

"It's not wrong to want to feel something with your heart, not just your loins," he'd remarked two days earlier on their journey from Angeles, their home in exile these last five years. "With your parents' example, it's unsurprising you've set yourself a high ideal. Here's hoping you'll find what you're looking for with Princess Rosalie."

Edward's confidence wasn't high. He'd only met her the once, but once was enough to know he shared little in common with King Marcus's daughter aside from a privileged heritage. His mother assured him there was more to the princess than met the eye, but she'd offered only the most superficial of opinions, their conversation soon faltering. Edward blamed himself, as Emmett seemed to have no trouble engaging the regal beauty, even eliciting a laugh from her at one point. But Emmett wasn't the oldest, and only a marriage between heirs had the potential to unite two of the three kingdoms and put an end to the decade's long bloodshed.

It was a pity Rosalie wasn't more to his liking, and Edward to hers, but he'd felt no spark, no fire... unlike his reaction to his bedraggled rescuer with her tattered clothing and bossy manner—one he had to thank for keeping him alive. When she'd stepped out of the shadows, her long, brown tresses falling in waves to her waist and her face free of dirt, the air had rushed from his lungs. With his heart continuing to beat heavily in his chest, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Bella.

The name was common enough in these parts, though there was nothing common about the young woman whose refined speech and obvious education confirmed her claim to having once been a lady. And not just any lady. Edward could only conclude that he'd been too busy trying not to hinder her efforts to get them both to safety to see how truly lovely she was from the start. Emmett might not agree, the girl's allure probably too subtle for his brother . . . which was a good thing.

Jolted by an unexpected stab of jealousy, Edward was glad he'd met her first, before his charismatic sibling had the chance to work his charm on the not-so-hapless maid. Determined to stake his claim while he had the chance, in what form and to what end he wasn't sure, he sought to repair the damage he'd inflicted earlier.

"I'm sorry I frightened you." Unable to resist the temptation, he reached for her again. But she flinched when his fingers brushed the back of her hand, and he reluctantly withdrew. "You have nothing to fear, I promise."

"If you say so." She pushed the cup closer, shooting him a puzzled glance. "But I think you must have hit your head quite hard."

"Why? Because I said you were beautiful?" He smiled at the soft, pink blush that stained her cheeks. "Surely you've been told that before?"

Ignoring his question, she turned back to the battered teapot and poured a second serving into an old bowl. It seemed she only possessed one cup, and his smile faded at another example of her impoverished circumstance. Sipping the fragrant tea, a welcome chaser for the bitter herbal brew she'd given him earlier, he wondered what manner of tragedy had brought her so low.

Heaving a sigh, Edward went to run his fingers through his hair but encountered the bandage wrapped around his head. The pounding had subsided to a dull ache, bearable and not what was bothering him. Life in the kingdom his father had inherited was far from fair, the lowest members of society having suffered the most under his uncle's reign. Watching her prepare a meal in such primitive surrounds, it galled him that a lady should be forced to live this way.

"Thank you," he said when Bella passed him a plate with some bread, cheese, and slices of apple. Determined to find a way to help her once he was rescued, he made a silent vow _not _to take advantage of her generosity any more than was absolutely necessary, certainly not the way his body desired. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," he added, imbuing his tone with as much sincerity as he could muster to hide an undercurrent of frustration.

"You're welcome."

Her lips, the ones he'd come so close to kissing, curved just a hint, and he added another vow to the first . . . to make her smile. Laugh even. Taking a seat on the rickety chair beside the bed, she took dainty bites of her food between sips of tea from the bowl. It wasn't hard to imagine her dressed in a fine gown eating delicacies in a well appointed parlour or grand ballroom, though he couldn't imagine her conversation being uninspired. Her hands wouldn't be rough and stained, nor would there be shadows beneath her eyes . . . unless she had been kept up late the night before.

Images of the two of them dancing together filled his thoughts, and he scowled at the impossibility. Quite aside from her obvious unwillingness, a soon-to-be-betrothed prince did not get to enjoy a public dalliance with an impoverished maid, not if he wanted his future father-in-law's support to help end a war.

"What happened?" he asked, and she raised a gently arched brow.

"Pardon?"

"Why does someone who was 'once a lady' live like this?" He gestured to their primitive surroundings, and she looked down at her lap. "You don't have to say if you'd rather not," he added, any number of sad and sordid ways in which a lady's reputation could be besmirched suddenly coming to mind. The outcome of a fall from grace was usually banishment from the upper echelons of society, but he'd never considered what that might entail. "I'm sure whatever caused your reduced circumstances wasn't your fault."

"No, it was not." She raised her chin, showing a little of her earlier spark as she met his gaze. "My father died unexpectedly, leaving someone he trusted in charge of his finances . . . and me."

"Someone who forces a lady to work as a servant? A drudge?" Edward couldn't hide his outrage. "Why did you not appeal for a change of guardianship?"

"To King Aro?" Bella shot him an incredulous glance. "My father fell out of favour with him years ago, around the time _your _father was banished. Papa only managed to avoid a public execution by keeping a low profile and paying exorbitant taxes . . . working himself to death in the process."

Edward's hand formed a fist where it rested on his thigh. He'd heard such stories before, of the suffering his father's supporters had endured when he, along with his entire family, had been forced to flee. Aro's wrath had been incurred against them after Carlisle had advocated pursuing peace with their neighbour rather than an escalation of the war, a worthy but futile stance.

It had seemed like a grand adventure to Edward, seeking asylum in a distant kingdom. But as the years passed, and stories of the atrocities occurring in their homeland had filtered through, he had railed against his father's pacifist leanings, growing frustrated at not being able to join the fight—against whom, he hadn't been sure, both Aro and Caius tyrants of the first order.

The thought tightened the knot that had already formed in his belly at hearing Bella's tale. At this very moment, his friends could be suffering at the hands of Caius's men, if they still lived.

He'd made a damned fool mistake breaking off from the group, but Edward hadn't wanted their inexperienced party's first taste of battle to be in the forest. Thinking he could lose their attackers in the maze of trails he recalled from his childhood explorations, he'd planned to meet up with the others on the far side of the pass. Now he lay injured, and God only knew what had happened to his companions . . . and brother. Emmett was barely twelve months Edward's junior and twice his size, but protective habits died hard. He just hoped they'd taken the opportunity he'd given them to escape.

Helpless to alter the outcome, he huffed a breath and refocussed his attention on the girl sitting quietly beside him.

"It must have been very difficult losing your father and then being forced to . . ."

"Work as a servant in one's own home?" She finished for him when he faltered. "It's surprising what you can get used to when you have no choice, though I must admit, I sometimes wish . . ."

A far away look appeared in her eyes, and Edward prompted, "For what?'

Shaking her head as if to clear it, Bella rose and collected their plates. "For a more waterproof cloak," she said matter-of-factly. "Once the danger is passed, I might retrieve yours and see if it's still serviceable. Unless you want it back, of course?"

"You're welcome to it." Edward tried to hold her gaze, but she busied herself washing their dishes in a bowl on the floor near the fire. "I'll gladly purchase you a new one and anything else you have need of, as well as alerting my father to your situation. Your guardian must be punished and a new one appointed, one who has your best interests at heart."

Bella dropped the plate she was drying. Ignoring the broken pieces, she twisted to face him. "No! You mustn't do that." His brows rose at her obvious alarm, but before he could protest she rushed to add, "You'll only get me into trouble, because a . . . a _guardian_ is well within their rights to treat their wardhowever they see fit."

"I see." He nodded slowly. That didn't seem right, though he supposed it may have been the case under Aro's rule. With a sick feeling settling in his gut, he considered a more likely story . . . that she had run away from an unsavoury marriage and feared being made to return. Not even a king could interfere with a husband's treatment of his wife. That a young woman might prefer a life of servitude to one of marital abuse was understandable, Edward supposed, but it would make helping her difficult. Letting the matter drop for now, he watched her perform a variety of chores. It was only after she had scrubbed their muddied clothes, chopped up some root vegetables and dried mutton and placed them in a pot hanging over the fire, and swept the floor using a broom made from twigs that she finally sat down to rest.

His mind teeming with questions, Edward wanted to learn more about the girl he feared may have already ensnared his heart. But after her reaction to his offer to intervene on her behalf, he was wary of alarming her further. Hoping to set her at ease, he did something quite unexpected and told her about himself instead, of life in the royal household from when he was a boy and more recently, in the Kingdom of Angeles. Witty banter wasn't his forte but, for once, the words flowed from his lips, even eliciting an occasional, treasured, smile. While knitting socks on four thin needles, Bella listened avidly, asking questions and giving him glimpses into the way her mind worked with her insightful, if cautious, comments. Wanting to keep her engaged, he talked more in one afternoon than he normally would in a week, gleaning what he could about her in the process.

He suspected her mother had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Sulpicia, her father a courtier or even a knight. Discovering her identity and learning where she lived shouldn't be _too _difficult. Whatever her current situation, nothing could come of his attraction to the girl, of course, his intention only to help her. He'd do it discreetly, so as not to make things worse for her or jeopardise the fulfilment of his own responsibilities.

Itching to touch his fingers to the soft, pink bloom on her cheek, he ignored the fact that keeping his distance was going to be nigh on impossible.

Edward was resting, but Bella resisted the urge to sit watching him sleep no matter how lovely he was to look at. She still couldn't believe he'd called her beautiful. The man might be heir to a kingdom, highly educated, and possessing a level of wealth and position she could only dream of, but she feared he was a tad daft. Busying herself with checking on their supper, she conceded the fall and knock to his head were likely to blame, though he'd seemed quite lucid when talking about his life as a prince growing up in a royal household.

Bella's memories of visiting the palace when she was a girl focussed mostly on how lovely her mother had looked in her regal gowns, with the jewels her stepmother now possessed adorning her graceful neck. After her mother's death, and with tensions in the palace rising, her father had left her behind in the care of a bevy of servants when he was about the King's business. Later, when he'd been busy ensuring their survival, he'd worried about his only child, mistakenly assuming she would be better off with a step-mother and stepsisters to keep her company.

Crouching by the fire, Bella tasted the stew she had prepared for Edward's and her supper, adding an extra sprinkling of herbs. Heaving a weary sigh, she rose unsteadily to her feet—the events of the long day taking their toll—and gave in to the temptation to look at her reflection in the fragment of mirror. Some of the servants had mentioned her growing likeness to her mother, and she wondered if that was what he'd seen. Her hair did look nice down around her shoulders, softening the angles of her face. Shaking her head, she tried to remember the last time since she'd looked in a mirror for any reason other than to make sure nothing was out of place, no smudges marked her cheeks, or locks of hair had come loose from beneath her scarf. Placating her step-mother had become force of habit over the years, anything to avoid _another _scolding, painful slap, or missed meal.

In hindsight, Bella wondered if she had overreacted to Edward's offer to intercede on her behalf. When Aro was King the idea would have been unthinkable, but Carlisle was purported to be a good man, just, not a war-monger like his brother.

His son certainly seemed nice.

Heat rose in Bella's cheeks, for the umpteenth time that day, and she rued her fair skin and the futile attraction that fluttered in her stomach. Unable to resist the urge to look his way, she concluded "nice" was a wholly inadequate description of the man who lay sleeping in her bed. His hair had dried in a haphazard fashion, the locks curling behind his ear and drawing her gaze to the stubble shadowing his angular jaw. She was pleased to see some colour in his cheeks, not because of any foolish desire to caress them with the back of her fingers—though the idea was tempting—but because it was a sign of his recovery from the effects of his fall. Chewing on her lower lip, Bella couldn't deny the reason she was fascinated by the shape of his mouth was because she kept recalling the moment he had almostkissed her. It would have been her first kiss . . . and from a prince, no less.

But he hadn't.

Because he _was _nice and had misinterpreted her response as fear, which is what it should have been. Anything else was fraught with danger. Even if he'd been true to his words and had no intention of harming her, the man was betrothed, or soon would be, his marriage vital to the alliance that could see peace restored. That he didn't seem happy about the idea was no concern of hers.

As for his petitioning for her to be assigned a new guardian, Bella dismissed the idea before any foolish hope could take root in her heart. Her father's fortune, what hadn't been plundered by the King's tax collectors, had been all but squandered by his widow. If he'd lived more than a few months past his wedding, he might have discovered the true nature of the woman he had married and taken measures to protect Bella's inheritance. But Victoria had kept her greed and spite well hidden, and now it was too late. A new guardian would have nothing to guard, other than Bella's virtue, which would soon be sold to the highest bidder. A choice would be nice, but the odds of that happening were minimal, regardless of who was responsible for making the decision.

Unless . . .

Drawn closer to the bed, an idea formed in Bella's thoughts, one she couldn't easily dispel.

* * *

A/N

Hmmm...what is she thinking?

To answer a couple of your questions -

Q: How many chapters will there be in this story?  
A: I was only planning ten or twelve chapters, just a short, fairly uncomplicated tale, but the characters and my imagination seem to have other ideas. All I know is it won't be another epic, never-ending behemoth. I promise! :)

Q: Are your stories available elsewhere in case they disappear off Fan Fiction Net?A: Yes...finally! I have my stories up on Fiction Pad - the link is available on my profile page. I will one day put them up on TWCS's fan fiction site when I get my act together.

Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews. I love hearing your thoughts on how the story is developing and where I'm taking these characters.

xx Elise


	4. Chapter 4

A/N

Sorry for posting late. I've been up to my eyebrows (is that the saying?) with the copy edit for Protection, the sequel to Innocence, this week, and I completely lost track of time. These things tend to take over my life, and being given an unrealistic deadline to meet didn't help. But when you realise you've gone three days without showering you know it's time for a break! This morning I went to the beach with hubby for a body board, and now I'm posting the next chapter for Restoration. Yay!

In exciting news, Innocence has spent the last few days in Amazon's Top 100 for Regency and Historical Romance sales, both book and ebook. I have no idea how many sales that actually equates to (a couple of hundred I'm guessing - so not enough to retire on!) but it has been fun to watch. I'd like to say a huge thank you for the support of my fan fiction friends for reading and reviewing Innocence on Amazon and Goodreads - oh, and buying it in the first place! You guys are amazing.

I just want to make a comment on something that pops up in this chapter and will throughout this story. As I'm basing Restoration (loosely) on Cinderella, the stepmother and stepsisters are portrayed as extremely unlikeable. It's a 'trope' and does not reflect my personal opinion at all. I think stepmothers (like foster mothers) do an amazing job and often get a bad rap for no good reason. My apologies for reinforcing the stereotype. It's a bit tricky when you're using a fairytale for inspiration!

Thanks to the wonderful Katmom and NKubie for their prereading/beta skills and helping me work out the plot and direction for this story. Thanks also to the "Fabulous Five" for putting up with my ranting this week when dangling participles, historical inaccuracies (really...who wants to picture a man wearing a nightshirt?), and continuity issues caused by overzealous editing cuts pushed me to the edge. You guys are amazing.

Now on with the story...

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Chapter 4

Bella sent Edward a nervous smile when she realised he was awake, his sleepy gaze following her actions as she dished up their supper. Her plan was improbable, the mere possibility causing her hands to shake.

"You're cold." Sitting up, he removed the small quilt from around his shoulders. "Here, take this."

"No, that's all right." Averting her gaze from his bare chest, she gestured to where she'd draped her shawl over the back of the chair. "It got damp when I went out to fetch the last of the wood, but it's almost dry. The rain had stopped, but the branches kept dripping, I'm afraid."

"The _last _of the wood?" He glanced towards the half dozen small logs stacked beside the fire. "You don't have a stockpile?"

"I normally do, but I let it run down." Embarrassed to be caught short, Bella ducked her head, though the situation was hardly her fault. After her last trip, she hadn't planned on coming back to the cabin until the following spring, but her stepmother had refused to listen when she'd argued it was too late in the season.

"The truffles are still fruiting, are they not?" Victoria had countered, a fact Bella could not deny.

"If it snows, I could be trapped."

"Oh, stop being melodramatic. The first snow storm isn't due for another few weeks."

"But it could come earlier, and the storm season has already begun." Bella had taken a risk continuing to plead her cause, her stepmother unlikely to see reason when there was money to be made. Sure enough, she'd raised her hand.

"Enough excuses, you insolent girl."

Bella had stood still to receive the slap that accompanied the hateful woman's words, knowing that any attempt at evasion would only bring worse punishment.

"If your father had not left us to fend for ourselves, I would not be forced to endure the indignity of having to engage in trade."

"My father didn't leave us, he _died._" Bella had ground the words between her teeth, biting back the ones she would have loved to add. That his estate would have provided them a perfectly adequate living if Victoria didn't insist on living so high on the hog.

"The result is the same." Her stepmother had sniffed. "My girls require the finest gowns for the king's ball if they are to attract wealthy, noble suitors. The prince might soon be spoken for, though nothing has been announced, so he _could _be enticed by their beauty. Regardless, he has brothers and cousins, any one of whom is sure to look favourably on two such lovely creatures."

Bella had attempted to hide a snort behind a pretend coughing fit, but Victoria had eyed her shrewdly.

"Don't worry, my dear, you won't miss out on the joys of matrimony. But whereas your nuptials will ensure I am kept in trinkets for a season, the alliances my daughters make will ensure myfuture. You cannot expect them to wear gowns that have been seen before. I need those truffles, and you will not return until you have gathered enough to cover the seamstress's account . . . though I won't have you dilly dallying. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, ma'am." Hiding the fists her hands had formed in the folds of her apron, Bella had gone to prepare for a sojourn in the forest she'd expected to be cold, damp, and potentially dangerous. She had tried to plan for all contingencies but hadn't counted on being required to provide refuge to a prince. And not just any prince. She could only imagine Jessica's and Lauren's fury if they found out she had not only met _the _prince before them but that he'd almost _kissed _her. Of course, they must never know, or Victoria would see she was soundly beaten for putting her reputation, and those of her stepsisters, at risk.

Ludicrous as it seemed to Bella, being forced to spend days alone in the forest didn't count. Regardless of the fact that, as a servant, she lacked both chaperonage and adequate protection, her stepmother was quite insistent Bella must remain a virgin until she wed. While one's reputation could be fabricated, _purity _was verifiable and quite the selling point. If Victoria learned Bella had spent time alone with a man, days and nights alone, the consequences would be dire. Although not as dire as if they ran out of firewood and the heir to the Kingdom of Volterra froze to death on her watch.

"It's all right," she said at Edward's obvious concern about the lack of provisions. "I was planning to head home in the morning, so I've enough to see us through until then." _Just. _She kept the thought to herself.

"I'm sorry to be a burden." He offered her a rueful smile. "You went out of your way to save my life, and here I am making yours difficult."

"No more than usual." She shrugged, bemused by his manner. To be on the receiving end of an apology from one she served was outside Bella's experience, certainly not what she expected from a member of royalty.

After placing his dinner within easy reach, she took her seat and ate a mouthful of stew, savouring the flavour as it warmed her from the inside. "I know a place where a fallen tree has rolled under a rocky overhang and should still be dry," she said between mouthfuls, wanting to reassure him that he need not fear freezing. "I'll go there in the morning and chop some more wood."

"With an axe?" His eyebrows disappeared beneath his tousled fringe. "Yourself?"

"Well . . . yes." Bella shrugged again, and he muttered an imprecation. Rather than scold him this time, she was pleased. His unexpected concern for her well-being—that's if she was interpreting his reactions correctly—increased her hope he would be receptive to her request.

Both hungry after their meagre luncheon, they fell silent as they ate the stew from wooden bowls with mismatched spoons. Mopping up the gravy with the last of the rye bread Cook had given her from the kitchen, Bella rehearsed what she wanted to ask Edward in her thoughts.

Her plan was presumptuous and unlikely to succeed, but now that the idea had formed, she couldn't get the possibility of having a say in her future from her mind. Victoria would need to be swayed somehow, as she would never let her stepdaughter go when there was money to be made from her labour and through marrying her off.

A shudder coursed through Bella at the thought of being wed to one of the men who had begun to visit the house for the purpose of 'perusing the merchandise'. Older men, willing to pay for a virginal young bride to warm their beds, tend their homes, and take care of their unruly broods, the eldest not many years Bella's junior. Unafraid of hard work, she wouldn't have minded if there was even the slim chance she would be treated with kindness or a modicum of respect. But she didn't like her chances. It would have been different if her father was still alive.

Resigned to her fate, Bella had stoically endured whatever had come her way since his death. But the thought of being married to a man she didn't love, one who would, most likely, treat her very ill, filled her with dread. She only managed to get through her days by refusing to dwell on where the next leg of her journey would take her. But Edward's unexpected intrusion into her life had dispelled the miasma of apathy and denial she'd allowed herself to become immersed in. Listening to him talk about a life she could barely recall or imagine had planted a seed in her mind. Of hope. Of possibility. Of the idea that maybe, just maybe, her life could take a different path.

After putting their empty bowls aside, she summoned the courage to speak.

"Thank you for the meal, Bella, it was delicious." Edward spoke first, and she closed her mouth. "And thank you for your hospitality."

"It's nothing." Embarrassed by his praise, especially considering their primitive surroundings, she shook her head. "I'm sorry I have so little to offer."

"Don't apologise." He reached for her hand, and this time she let him take it, let herself feel the comfort of another's touch. Of _Edward's _touch. It was unwise, as had been watching him while he slept and regretting the fact he hadn't kissed her. Intruding on her plan to ask for his assistance came another thought, one so shocking she flinched and snatched her hand away.

His barely covered chest rose and fell, as he expelled a sigh. "It seems I must ask for forgiveness again."

"No, I didn't mind. It's just there is something I want to say, and I need to think clearly, and well . . ." Flustered, she hugged her arms around her middle, struggling to meet his gaze.

"You find it difficult to focus when I'm holding your hand?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean. . ." His smile widened, and a flush warmed her cheeks. "It didn't seem appropriate, as I have a favour to ask."

"A favour?" His expression sobering he leaned towards her, the quilt falling to his waist. "I'm determined to repay you for rescuing me, Bella."

"Oh . . . that's . . . good." Licking her suddenly dry lips, she dragged her gaze from the tantalising glimpse of his navel, up his not overly broad but still quite muscular chest. Refusing to linger on his mouth, she reached the sparkling eyes that had startled her at their first sight but now drew her into their emerald depths. Endeavouring to collect her scattered thoughts, she gave her head a quick shake.

"I don't want payment, per se, but I have a _proposal _you might be interested in."

"A proposal?" Edward sat back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Anything. Anything at all."

A nervous laugh escaped Bella's lips. "Anything encompasses quite a lot."

"I mean it." His eyes blazed with sincerity and something she dare not ascribe a source. The errant thought that had caused her earlier panic troubled her again, and she forced it aside, rushing to fill the potent silence.

"I want independence from my . . . _guardian._" She dare not say stepmother lest he deny her request immediately, as a parent's rights were greater than a trustees, akin to those of a husband. "My inheritance is gone, but I'm not afraid to work for my living. I'm good with herbs, and my tonics and creams sell well in the markets. If you could loan me the seed money to establish myself, I would be ever so grateful."

Edward blinked. "You want to start a business?"

Her hopes waning at his blank expression, Bella covered her disappointment by tugging the shawl off the chair behind her and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'd pay you back every penny, with interest, but I understand if you're not willing to take the risk."

"I'm not concerned about the risk." After making sure his lap was covered—reminding her that he was naked beneath the blanket—he moved to sit on the side of the bed. "I don't mean to pry, Bella, but have you run away from an unhappy marriage or unwanted betrothal?

"No, well not yet."

"And you're not yet twenty-one?"

"Almost nineteen."

Groaning, Edward ran his hand through his hair, dislodging the bandage but, fortunately, not setting his wound to bleeding again. "You're obviously a capable young woman, but how do you expect to survive without a guardian to keep you safe?"

"Safe?" She stood and paced towards the fire. "You think I'm safe alone out here in the forest or being forced to work like a slave in my own home? What about knowing I could be married off at any time to a person not of my choosing?"

Edward grimaced. "You're not the only one in that boat."

"No, but do you fear being beaten, of being . . ." Tugging her shawl tightly around her, she couldn't stop the shudders that racked her body. Now that she had faced the reality of her situation, it's awfulness would not be kept at bay.

"I want to help you, but a young lady without protection going into business by herself . . ." He spread his hands. "Let me speak to my father—"

"No, that's all right." She'd been foolish to think she could escape Victoria's clutches or the fate that awaited her. She should have just asked Edward for money and used it to run away, but that was even riskier than what she'd proposed, and she wasn't sure her pride would allow it. A loan was one thing, charity quite another.

To her relief, he let the matter drop. Checking to see if they were dry, she pulled his shirt and under-breeches off the line before tossing them towards him. Regaining her composure, and resisting the temptation to pursue the _other _line of thinking intruding on her thoughts, would be easier if he wasn't naked beneath the quilt. With a heavy heart, she turned to face the fire, allowing him to dress in privacy.

If she swallowed her pride and accepted payment for helping Edward, and if she could somehow convince Victoria to do the right thing, she could use it as a dowry to try and attract a better class of husband.

_And pigs might fly._

The odds of her stepmother not taking the money for herself, or adding it to her daughters' dowries, was zero, and Bella huffed a breath at her foolishness for even entertaining the notion.

She could take Edward up on his offer to speak to his father on her behalf, but the king was a busy man, with a war to win and a kingdom to set to rights. Interfering in what was, essentially, a family matter for the impoverished daughter of a disgraced noble would surely be beneath his notice. And what difference would it make? Only a dowry measuring in the hundreds of guineas would secure a husband who wasn't twice her age and likely to abuse her. Even then, there were no guarantees.

If her father had been alive, he would have vetted the candidates, choosing someone he trusted for his daughter's spouse. Shaking her head at the futility of that line of thinking, Bella faced the realisation that she didn't want to marry anyone, not even a good man. She'd much rather have her independence and make her _own _choice of husband when she was good and ready.

The idea was a fantasy, one made even more impossible by the fact that, in the space of a day, she feared Edward had spoiled her for ever wanting another.

"I'm dressed," he said, and she turned to face him and the scandalous thoughts that had been teasing at the edges of her consciousness all evening. If she could not avoid being forced to marry and lay with a man not of her choosing, why not take the opportunity to lay with one she _did _want while she had the chance?

* * *

Why not indeed?

Some of my readers were horrified when my heroine in A Forbidden Love chose surrender to the hero's quite masterful seduction rather than his offer of safe but lonely respectability. While this Edward is a very different character, and this Bella more worldly, I'm curious to know if her following this path will engender the same degree of outrage. Yes? No? Comments?

I'm off on holiday for a few days to do some snorkelling and will have iffy internet at best, but I promise to answer any questions in my next A/Ns.

Thanks for reading...and reviewing. ;)

Elise


	5. Chapter 5

A/N

Hello again and thanks for all the wonderful support you are giving this story. The question I raised at the end of last chapter engendered a wide range of responses...as I am learning to expect! Thank you for sharing your thoughts and opinions. They have given me some ideas in terms of where I take these characters. ;)

On an astonishing note, Innocence made the Top Ten for Regency and Historical Romance, Kindle and Paperback, on Amazon today. Picture me gobsmacked!

Thanks, as always, to my wonderful betas, Katmom and NKubie. They'd done a wonderful job on this chapter, then I got to 'tweaking' and adding a few bits here and there as I received inspiration from this weeks reviews. Consequently, any errors in grammar or typos are all mine.

* * *

Chapter 5

Edward hated disappointing Bella, hated the look of desolation that stole over her delicate features when he dashed her hopes. He shouldn't have said he would do _anything _to help her_, _as she was right . . . it encompassed too much. In hindsight, he wasn't sure what he'd been thinking. If she was a man, he would gladly set her up in a business of her choosing. But a young woman, one who had _once _been a lady? What she needed was a supportive guardian who had her best interests at heart, but without an inheritance to manage and profit from, he couldn't imagine anyone taking on such a role. As for refusing offers of marriage and supporting herself through her own endeavours, he'd never heard of a maiden accomplishing such a feat. If she was older, widowed, and had at least some male protection—an uncle, brother—it might be possible. It would also help if she were plain, less likely to inspire unwelcome attention, but Bella was anything but.

She was beautiful.

Edward couldn't believe he'd not seen it straight away, though she had been mud spattered, her hair hidden by a scarf, and draped in a drab-coloured cloak. The gown she wore equally worn, but it showed off her feminine curves, curves he couldn't help but notice. Unlike the elegant court ladies who barely raised his interest, Bella captivated him, and it wasn't just her face or figure or that glorious hair. She was interesting, intelligent, and clearly well educated. The longer he spent in her company, getting to know her, the more beautiful—and fascinating—she appeared.

Was that love?

It was definitely lust. His attraction for her was growing in tandem with the gentler sensibility, one as dangerous as another for a man in his position. Acting on the latter was out of the question, as he'd promised not to harm her and could not afford a scandal. As for the former, he'd be a fool to allow his heart to become engaged when his course was unalterably set, the one that could effect countless lives and required his marriage to another.

Giving his head a quick shake, Edward dismissed the possibility that he had fallen in love with Bella. Something so momentous couldn't occur after such a short acquaintance. Even if it had, there was no chance of it being reciprocated. She had reacted with fear when he'd made an advance upon their arrival at the cabin, and she was sure to be annoyed with him for denying her request. At the rate he was going, he was lucky she hadn't turfed him out into the storm. Whatever emotions he was feeling—attraction, affection, or a combination of the two—gratitude and circumspection were the only ones he could afford to foster.

That was assuming his head had any say over his heart .

After studying her stiffly held back for a moment, he donned his shirt and struggled into his under-garments, his ankle making it difficult. She'd not said as much when tossing his clothing onto the bed, but he agreed it was past time he covered his nakedness with something other than a quilt.

After informing her he was decent, he raised his foot back onto the bed, Bella catching his wince as she turned to face him.

"Is your ankle paining you?" Crossing to his side, she removed the bandage, frowning at the sight of his misshapen and multi-coloured flesh. "We need to bring down the swelling. Pity I didn't think of it earlier, as I'll have to climb a fair way up the mountain to find any ice."

"You'll do no such thing." Edward grabbed hold of her arm, wondering if there was anything this slip of a girl wouldn't take it upon herself to accomplish.

Bella stared at his hand on her arm, but when he went to withdraw, she surprised him by covering it with her own. Lifting her gaze to his, the light in her deep brown eyes warmed him despite the cabin's increasing chill.

"I wasn't going to go _now._ It's almost dark."

"You'll not go at all. I'll not have you putting yourself at risk for me. You've done enough already."

Her lips curved into a shy smile, causing the heat in his chest to spread.

"What is it?" he asked, and she gave a little shrug.

"I'm not used to having someone worry about my safety."

"Well, you do now." He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact, but his voice dropped low, and her smile faded. For a long moment they stared at one another, the air between them crackling with something _other _than fear. Edward had his suspicions about its source, but he wasn't experienced enough at reading women to be certain. His efforts to set her at ease about his intentions had been successful, as she no longer seemed afraid of him. Gone, too, was her anger and disappointment from mere minutes earlier. If he wasn't mistaken, it had been replaced by the same desire that burned low in his belly. The change was sudden, unexpected, and intensified his own feelings to an almost unbearable degree. Hating the fact he could not act upon them, he took a deep breath.

"Would a bucket of water help?"

"I beg your pardon?" She stepped back.

"To soak my ankle and bring down the swelling."

"Right. Your ankle." Spinning around, she went to fetch the bucket she kept near the door, tipping the contents into a pot and refilling the kettle. "I'll just go fetch some fresh water from the creek. With the way the temperature is dropping, it should be cold enough to do the trick."

"Bella, wait," Edward called, not having meant for her to brave the elements again. Ignoring him, she grabbed the lantern off the table and headed out the door.

"Damn," he muttered, swinging his leg back over the side of the bed and rising to stand. It took a moment to get his bearings, his head deciding to pound in time with his throbbing ankle.

_Now what? _

Going after her clearly wasn't an option, as he'd be more hindrance than help. Recalling the location of the creek they had passed on their way to the cabin, a journey that would take some minutes, he decided to make use of the chamber pot in the corner before she returned. The cabin didn't boast anything so sophisticated as an outhouse or water closet, and he hated knowing she would have to empty the covered pot in the morning. It wasn't something to which he normally gave much thought, like so many of the other chores he had witnessed her perform over the course of the day. He'd do it himself if he could manage it, anything to show he thought of her as more than a servant.

While he was relieved Bella wasn't trapped in an unsavoury marriage—though it sounded like it was just a matter of time—he found it hard to fathom a guardian getting away with treating his ward so ill. Then again, under Aro's rule, fairness and chivalry had been relegated to mere incidentals, a situation he was determined to help his father rectify.

With the quilt around his shoulder, the pitiful fire struggling to dispel the cold, Edward sat on the wooden chair and awaited Bella's return. He cursed the fact he could not go after her, but without a miraculous recovery, or the sudden acquisition of a pair of crutches, he was next to useless. The wind howled, whistling through cracks in the timber walls and setting his nerves on edge. The likelihood of anyone being out in this weather was remote, but the thought of someone seeing the lantern and going to investigate—of accosting Bella—saw him rise to stand. Hopping on one foot, he crossed to where the rest of his clothes hung on the makeshift line, planning to dress and find something to use as a cane. But before he could retrieve his breeches, the door opened.

"What are you doing?" Bella asked, her slender arms straining with the weight of the water-filled bucket.

"Ah . . . checking to see if the clothes are dry?" Edward returned to the chair and retrieved the quilt to better cover himself. "They're still damp," he added more gruffly than he intended, embarrassed to have been caught out. She'd probably laugh if he told her he had been planning to come to her rescue.

"Sorry about the cold, but if I build up the fire we'll run out of wood before morning." Bella placed the bucket next to his foot and began to fuss over him once more.

Flinching, he lowered his foot into the icy water. "I can do this. You go get yourself warm," he said, relieved when she obeyed him and huddled down by the fire. "Did you get wet? Do you need the towel?"

"I'm fine." She gave him another of her shy smiles then rose to fetch a couple of threadbare blankets from a box under the bed. "The wind had shaken most of the rain from the trees, so I didn't get another soaking, though I fear we are in for a rough night."

"What are you doing?" he asked as she made a pallet on the uneven ground. "You can't sleep there. You'll catch your death of cold."

"What choice do I have?" Bella glanced up at him before looking away. "I don't think I could sleep in the chair. It's too small and rickety."

"Of course not. You'll sleep in your bed, and _I'll _sleep on the floor."

"Don't be ridiculous." She put her hands on her hips. "I didn't go to all that trouble to rescue you to have youcatch _your_ death. Besides, you're a prince. I bet you've never slept a night on the floor in your life."

"You'd lose." He raised his chin, though he wasn't entirely sure a well-padded bedroll in a heated tent qualified. "Your guardian may have forced you to endure such indignities, but I wouldn't sleep a wink knowing you were cold and uncomfortable."

"Oh." She blinked, the starch going out of her stance and a suspicious sheen appearing in her eyes. "That's very . . . thoughtful of you, but I don't know what else to suggest."

"Isn't it obvious?" He swallowed hard, hoping she would accept his offer while knowing it would cause him an entirely different world of discomfort than the one he would have endured lying on the cold ground. "We should share the bed." Her eyes widened, and he rushed to add, "It's big enough . . . just. We'll both be clothed, and I promise I won't take advantage of the situation. To be honest, between my head and my ankle, I'm not sure that I could." It was a lie, but his deliberately rueful tone seemed to do the trick, and she released the breath she was holding.

"You wouldn't mind . . . sharing?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't have offered if I did."

A flush appeared on her cheeks, as she looked from him to the bed and back again. "It would be warmer that way, for both of us, as we'd have to cuddle up to fit."

His expression sobering at the image her words inspired, Edward stifled a groan. "Right. Warmer," he murmured, wondering what he had gotten himself into?

xxx

Stepping behind a screen she had made from one of the thin blankets, Bella changed into her nightgown and brushed her hair. Now that she was a significant step closer to the fulfilment of her plan, though probably not _this _night considering Edward's lack of capacity, her courage threatened to fail her. Since he was determined to behave in a gentlemanly manner, acting on her burgeoning feelings would require propositioning the man . . . who just happened to be a prince . . . one who was practically betrothed.

What was she thinking?

Bella put her brush aside.

She was thinking that he was quite lovely . . . to look at . . . to talk to . . . to be with.

As for his betrothal, he was clearly reluctant and it wasn't yet official. It was common knowledge that princes and the like took willing maids to their beds . . . not so willing ones as well, though she _knew _Edward would never do such a thing. She would have to declare her interest and assure him she wanted nothing more from him than a brief interlude.

Which would make her a trollop.

Heaving a sigh, Bella began to braid her hair lest it resemble a haystack in the morning. A trollop . . . a servant . . . a slave. Was it such a terrible thing to want to experience happiness?

_But you haven't even known him a day, _she reminded herself, though in her defence, it felt much longer. Their time together had been heightened by the dangers they'd faced and the odd intimacy of their acquaintance. Bella doubted she would be granted as much time with her future husband before they wed, and certainly none alone. Not that she had any desire to get to know the man Victoria would chose for her. It was a given that he would have absolutely no interest in her as a person, only what she could provide for him in way of unpaid service . . . and what he would take from her as his right regardless of her feelings or desires.

Closing her eyes in an attempt to ward off a wave of disconsolation, Bella considered what she _did_ know about Edward.

Like her father, he was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word. He was kind and considerate of her feelings, something Bella doubted anyone other than her friend, Alice, had given a thought to in years. He also showed a surprising degree of gratitude for one of his station. It might have just been idle curiosity, but he'd seemed genuinely interested in her, asking questions and listening respectfully to her opinions, a heady experience for a girl who had been relegated to a position of near invisibility upon her father's death.

Hugging her arms around her middle, Bella allowed the memories of that painful time to surface. Her instincts had warned her not to trust her new stepmother, Victoria's gushing praise and avowals of motherly devotion reeking of insincerity. Sure enough, as soon as her father had been required to travel away from home on business, Victoria had dropped the facade . . . to a degree.

Bella had been reluctant to complain, as her father had believed he was doing her a kindness providing her with a mother and sisters. In hindsight, she'd made a terrible mistake hiding her concerns. The sun had not set the day of her father's death before Victoria's true character had emerged in all its self-serving and vitriolic glory. Numb with grief and powerless to defend herself, Bella had been escorted to her new home in the basement while her room, wardrobe of clothes, and possessions were given to her stepsisters. She'd not even been allowed to attend her father's funeral.

While tying off her braid with a piece of string, Bella considered her options.

There would be considerable risks involved, and it would mean going against everything she'd been taught about acceptable, ladylike behaviour. Her father would be appalled if he was still alive, though she imagined he would be equally appalled if he knew how his daughter was forced to live and what her stepmother had in store for her.

Recalling the love he had shown for her mother and the affection they had readily displayed, she questioned the strident voice of her conscience. Her father _might _have have understood.

After making sure the fire would burn for a few hours, Bella dimmed the lantern and returned to find Edward lying in the bed. His eyes were closed, a crease forming a shadow between his brows.

"Edward?" she called softly, and he half opened one eye. "Did soaking your foot not help with the pain?"

"No, it did." He rose up one elbow, the angular planes of his face highlighted by the fire's glow.

"Is it your head?" She brushed the hair back from his forehead, pleased to see the cut had dried over. "I could make you another willow bark draft?"

"I'm fine. Just . . . tired."

"It has been a long day." With a yawn accentuating her words, Bella climbed in beside him. Even with his body pressed against the wall, there wasn't enough room for the two of them to lie next to one another.

"We'll need to lie on our sides to fit." He rolled towards her, and she quickly turned her back.

"But what about your ankle?"

"I'll manage," he said, threading his arm beneath her neck and adjusting the pillow so both their heads could rest upon it. His body curved around her, with his knees tucked behind her own. Spooning, she'd heard it called. When his arm rested on her waist and his hand found a place not many inches below her breasts, she couldn't help but flinch.

"Sorry. I didn't mean . . ." He went to move his arm, but she caught hold of his hand and entwined their fingers.

"No, it's all right." Twisting her head she looked over her shoulder to meet his shadowed gaze. "We'll be warm this way. Are you comfortable?"

"Comfortable?" His voice sounded strange, and to her surprise he closed his eyes and turned his face to burrow into the pillow. "I'm fine," he added after a moment. "Just go to sleep."

"Very well. Good night." Turning back the other way, Bella snuggled into his embrace. A groan rumbled from Edward's chest, vibrating through her, and her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

Of one thing she was certain. If she decided to go through with her plan, when the time was right, she didn't think a great deal of enticing would be required.

* * *

A/N

I've been asked by a couple of worried readers if this story will have a Happily Ever After, and the answer is a definite 'Yes'! Sorry if that seems spoilerish, but I don't write any other kind.

Speaking of happiness...what will Bella do?

Thanks for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and your questions and thoughts help feed my 'writer's muse'. :)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N

Happy Australia Day!

Thanks for all your wonderful reviews. I wasn't sure I'd be able to update this weekend, as it's been a crazy week. After discovering some unforgivable typos in the first two chapters of Innocence (shock, horror, dismay) I was relieved to discover an update is possible. The publishers don't normally allow it until the book has been out for six months, but it is doing so well they're making an exception. Since I could make changes, I pleaded my cause and was granted permission to add back in some key scenes that were cut in the editing process (my heroine's journey from her home to Worthington after her father is shot, which helps explain her lack of worldliness, and some shorts scenes with some of the secondary characters). Needless to say, I am thrilled, though a heap of work was required. I'd just sent the updated version off to the publishers when the substantive edit of the first book in my Hearts of Honour series, "Passion and Propriety", arrived back from my editor and...she loved it! The edit is almost complete (it's been so easy compared to reworking a fan fiction story) and I can't wait to share it with everyone...in August. Sigh. Publishing is a very slow, drawn out process.

On a positive note, despite all my publishing/editing dramas, the next chapter of Restoration is coming along nicely. Now on with the story...

* * *

Chapter 6

Bella woke to the sound of Edward's breathing next to her ear. Not a hair's breadth separated them, and his head had found a resting place in the curve of her shoulder. The feel of him surrounding her was unlike anything she'd ever known. The closest thing she could compare it to was something she'd taken for granted as a girl . . . being safe, cared for, wanted. The tears that had stung her eyes when he had expressed concern for her well-being returned, and she sniffed them back. There'd been no place for weeping in her life for a very long time, and she had no use for it now. As wonderful as Edward might be, this was not a fairy-tale, and he was _not _her knight in shining armour come to rescue her. Whatever comfort she received from his presence, his touch, was destined to be a temporary balm to her loneliness. If she let it.

Studying their still joined hands in the waning firelight, Bella questioned the wisdom of her plan. Asking Edward to make love to her, so that the first time was of her choosing and not the horrible experience she had always expected it to be, seemed like a justifiable proposition. But what if she made life harder for herself? It had taken her months, _years, _to lock away the painful memories of her parents, only allowing them free range on the rarest of occasions. Using recollections of her time with Edward as a buffer against the insults and indignities she would endure in the years ahead was a nice idea. But they could just as easily prove to be her greatest torment.

Carefully disentangling herself from his embrace, Bella rose from the bed to tend to the fire, a chore she would need to perform every few hours throughout the night. After checking to make sure he was still asleep, she made use of the chamber pot in the shadowed corner of the cabin. Recalling how difficult she'd found the adjustment from daughter of the house to one of its lowliest servants, she wondered what Edward thought of the primitive conditions. He wasn't one to complain, in fact, for a prince, he possessed a remarkable degree of resilience.

Smiling at the memory of him standing on one leg, reaching for the washing while wearing nothing more than an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of revealing under garments, she returned to the bed, only to find he had rolled over and was facing the wall. Not wanting to wake him, she climbed in and wrapped herself around him from behind, encircling his waist with her arm. He grumbled a little and caught hold of her hand, entwining their fingers just as she had done at the beginning of the night.

An "if only" surfaced in her thoughts, and she brushed it aside. There was no place in her life for foolish dreams. There was here, now, and a future she'd rather not think about.

A whimper rose in her throat, and she hugged Edward tight, a long time passing before she succumbed to sleep once more.

The next time Bella woke she was sprawled partway over Edward's body, one arm hugging his chest and her bent leg resting across his hips and thighs. The only way to get closer would be to lie completely on top of him. Looking up, she found him watching her.

"You're awake." At the feel of something pressing against her inner thigh, her eyes widened. "And you're . . ." She was too shy to say the word aroused, even though she was quickly becoming so herself.

"Sorry about that." He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face then cupped her cheek with his hand. "I tried to move away, but there's no room, and I didn't want to wake you by changing positions."

"Oh, that was . . . considerate of you."

He quirked a brow, his chest rising and falling with silent laughter. "More like torture."

"Really?" Curious, she flexed her leg and felt him move beneath her. Her breath hitched, as did his, the intensity of his gaze holding her spellbound. Was now the time? Summoning her courage, she opened her mouth to tell Edward she wasn't offended by the evidence of his desire for her. In fact, unwise though it might be, she wanted him, too.

But then she noticed the faint light coming through the flimsy curtains.

"It's morning?" She pushed back on her elbows.

"So?" His arms tightened around her, but he released her when she began to struggle. Leaping from the bed, she ran to the fireplace and stirred the dying embers. Adding the last of the wood, she prayed there was enough heat remaining for it to catch alight.

Sitting up, Edward ran a hand through his crazily tousled hair. "What is it? What's wrong?"

With his shirt hanging open, and the sleepy look in his eyes, she could have easily become distracted, but Bella restricted herself to a brief glance . . . or two.

"The fire's almost out. I normally wake every few hours during the night to add more wood, but I slept through until morning. That _never _happens." Shaking her head, she could only imagine it was Edward's presence that had kept her nightmares at bay, the one's that worked better than a town crier's call.

"You were exhausted, which is hardly surprising. You worked like a Trojan yesterday." He swung around and placed his uninjured foot on the cold cabin floor, the other held carefully aloft. "Will it take?"

"It will be a problem if it doesn't, as I don't have any dry kindling."

"I see." After pulling the quilt around his shoulders, he rose awkwardly and hobbled over to her side. Bella was about to scold him for getting about of bed, as there was no point both of them freezing, when he knelt down and wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. The rebuke died on her lips. Looking into his eyes, she saw there was more than desire in the emerald depths, much more.

"Don't worry." He softly touched her cheek. "You're one of the most capable people I've ever met. I'm sure we'll manage."

While Cook and the others weren't unkind, her previous position as their master's daughter held her apart from her fellow servants . . . that and their risking Victoria's ire by being seen to befriend her. Edward was different, his unguarded concern touching something inside her she had kept buried for a long time.

"Bella?" He cocked his head to the side, and the temptation was too much to bear. Ignoring the now flickering flame, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. A sob erupted from her lips, followed by another, and she began to weep, the first tears she'd allowed herself since a few weeks after her father's passing.

"Shh."Edward held her close. "It's all right. The fire didn't go out, and everything's going to be okay. I'm sorry about before. You have nothing to fear . . . it was just an automatic response. Please, don't be afraid."

Bella's tears dried up as quickly as they'd begun, and she pulled back. "Do you think I would have thrown myself into your arms if I were _afraid _of you?"

"Ah . . . no?" His tender expression turned to a frown. "It's just that you started crying after I put the blanket around you, not that I was going to _do _anything. I just didn't want you to be cold."

"I know." She wiped her face with her sleeve, embarrassed by the show of emotion. "It's been such a long time since I had anyone take care of me that you took me by surprise."

"Oh, I . . . I'm sorry," he stammered. "It won't happen again. I mean, surprising you not taking care of you, because I _do _care about you, Bella, more than I should. But I'll try not to make any, er . . . sudden moves. As for the other thing"—he jerked his head towards the bed, two bright spots of colour appearing on his cheeks—"you don't have to worry. It didn't mean anything. Well, it _meant _something, but I'm not going to act on it—"

Mirroring his earlier action, Bella cupped his cheek with her hand. "I'm not worried."

"That's good." His green-eyed gaze darkened. "I won't deny I'm attracted to you, more than I've ever been to a woman before, but I can control it. I promise."

"I believe you." She snaked her arms back around his neck. "But have you considered I might not want you to control it?"

Edward's jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," she whispered, and he swallowed hard. He seemed quite shy, for a prince, and Bella worried what he would make of her plan. She didn't want him to think badly of her, to think her a _trollop, _but the desire to kiss him was almost overwhelming. As for what might come after . . .

Encouraged by the way he kept looking at her mouth, as if he wanted to taste it as much as she wanted to know the feel of his lips on hers, she pushed up off her knees. With another of those wonderful-sounding groans rumbling in his throat, he drew her more tightly against him and lowered his head. His mouth hovered close to hers, their lips a mere breath apart, but _just _before they touched, he let out a yelp.

"Damn, damn, damn!" He released her and sat back, grabbing hold of his ankle. "I mean, ouch. I mean, sorry."

Bella giggled, the occurrence so unusual her hand rose to her mouth in surprise. Laughter, like tears, had been absent from her life for far too long.

"You think this is funny?" He rocked on the ground while holding his injured foot.

"No?" The chuckles she couldn't contain belied her words. "A little?"

"I'm glad I amuse you. Now, help me up." His tone was gruff, but the corner of his lip twitched, assuring her he could see the funny side . . . or so she hoped. Once he was seated back on the bed with his leg raised, and she saw how pale he had gone, her humour fled.

"I'll get you something for the pain," she said, her tone contrite. After grabbing her shawl and tying it around her shoulders—the fledgling fire yet to warm the room—she made up a dose of herbal medicine from her precious bottles of tincture. While he swallowed it down, grimacing at the bitter taste, she checked his ankle.

"How does it look?"

"Colourful." She sent him a sympathetic glance. "I hate to say it, but I think another soaking in ice water is in order. It seemed to help with the swelling last night."

"It can wait." He reached for her hand. "It's bitterly cold. Why don't you come back to bed until the place warms a little and explain your words. You do realise the situation is impossible?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Bella shrugged, intrigued by the light her taunting words caused to blaze in his eyes. She'd never flirted before, never known the thrill of desire and being desired in return. When he tugged her closer, she didn't resist.

"What does that mean?"

"It means"—she leaned down and whispered next to his ear—"that I am looking forward to kissing you without interruption." She pulled back a fraction, pleased to observe his slack-jawed expression. "But first, I have to go get us some more firewood. Otherwise we run the risk of both freezing _and_ starving, and I have no desire to do either."

After brushing her lips lightly to his cheek, she collected her clothes and went behind the screen. Bemused by her boldness, she couldn't suppress a grin . . . which faded when she looked towards the empty wood bin. With no time to waste, she took the axe down from its place on the wall, propped it near the door, and fetched them both an apple.

"To break your fast." He took it from her, but at his frown she added, "You'll have to wait for something more substantial, I'm afraid. I wasn't making in jest. If the fire goes out, I'll have a hard time getting it started again, and I can't cook without a flame."

"I'm not complaining." He put the apple aside and grabbed her hand once more. "I just can't believe I'm letting you do this . . . go out in this miserable weather and chop woodwhile I lay abed like a sluggard."

"You can't help that." She squeezed his hand. "And it's not like I haven't done it before."

He tugged her a step closer, so that her thighs were pressed against the side of the bed and she had to grab his shoulder not to end up falling in his lap. "I _will _make this up to you, Bella, I promise. I will find a way to give you what you want."

Desire sparked low in her belly at his words. "What I want?"

"Freedom from your guardian, and a life of your choosing." Lifting the hand he still held to his mouth, he brushed the back of her fingers with his lips, lingering far longer than the courtly gesture required. The tingling inside intensified, while her legs turned to jelly.

"But I thought you said it wasn't possible," she whispered.

"I'll find a way to make it happen."

"Oh." His words were astonishing—life changing—but all Bella could think of was other, impossible, things. "Can I still have a kiss?"

"God, yes." He closed his eyes for a moment. "But it's dangerous. I fear once I start kissing you, it will be difficult to maintain control."

Their gazes met, equally heated, and she swayed towards him. Since Bella wouldn't be asking him to stop, she didn't see it as a problem.

The fire snapped, breaking the spell, and she reluctantly straightened.

"Bella, wait," Edward called when she reached the door. "Where are you going? What direction and how far?"

"Why?" She turned back to face him.

"So I know where to look for you if you don't return."

"But your ankle?"

"My ankle be da—"

"Damned?" she finished for him when he snapped his mouth shut.

"If anything were to happen to you . . ." He grimaced, as if the thought caused him pain.

The temptation to return to the bed, climb under the covers, and burrow into Edward's embrace was so strong, Bella had to grip hold of the door frame to keep from acting on it. She was probably reading more into his concern than was warranted, the emptiness that had plagued her for so long making her vulnerable . . . and foolish. But his concern seemed genuine.

"Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen." She mustered a smile.

"Humour me? Please?"

She shrugged a shoulder. Despite knowing it would be almost impossible for him to reach her if something went wrong—and invariably too late—she gave him the directions as requested.

"I should be back mid-morning, but don't panic if I'm delayed. I've an old sled that I use to carry the wood, and it's slow going."

"Be safe." He waved and Bella nodded in return, her hands filled with the axe and old sacks she would need for gathering kindle. It was only when she was making her way, as stealthily through the forest as the old sled would allow, that she faced the implications of his promise.

If he was able to secure her freedom, making it possible for her to avoid being forced into a marriage not of her choosing, was it wrong of her to still want to be with him while she had the chance?

~xxx~

Unable to pace, Edward was reduced to drumming his fingers on the scarred surface of the small wooden table. His gaze remained fixed on the hands on his pocket watch moving inexorably around the face. He hadn't expected the timepiece to survive the fall and subsequent soaking, but after retrieving it from his coat pocket, all he'd had to do was wind the knob to set it ticking once more. Having no way of knowing the actual time, he'd taken a guess, his purpose to keep track of how long Bella was out in the forest . . . alone . . . doing work that should not befall a lady.

In her absence, he'd done what he could to tidy up the cabin—namely, straightening the quilt on the bed and removing their dry clothing from the makeshift line. It had been a first for him, picking up after himself, a chore normally undertaken by his valet or page. As for leaning on the flimsy broom and hobbling out into the bushes behind the cabin to empty the chamber pot, he doubted anyone of his acquaintances would credit such a thing. But he had done it. For Bella.

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on Edward, a smirk curving his lips.

Most gentlemen gave flowers, sweets, or fripperies when they wooed a lady, jewellery if it was a serious courtship. Disposing of bodily waste didn't even make the list, though he suspected Bella would be appreciative. There was no denying she was a unique young lady.

His smile faded and he expelled a gusty sigh. What on earth was he doing? Courting her wasn't an option, which made even _thinking _about wooing her reprehensible. But he couldn't get the idea of kissing her out of his mind. Spending the night with her warm, soft, curvaceous body wrapped in his arms had been heaven . . . and hell. He'd known her less than twenty four hours, but already the thought of their being parted was unthinkable. If he allowed things to go any further—just a kiss, of course, as anything more was out of the question—he doubted he would survive their inevitable separation.

"So speaks the man stricken by his first ever bout of infatuation," he murmured to the empty room. It was a good thing Emmett wasn't here to witness his older, responsible, dare-he-admit to occasionally _dour _brother's predicament, as he'd have laughed him to scorn.

"It's all right for some." Edward's wry tone did little to hide the concern he felt over the fate of his companions. A world without his carefree brother, who wooed and won the ladies without a thought while eschewing the finer feelings Edward held in secret regard, was not one to be contemplated. Nor was kissing Bella, but contemplate it he did while the minutes ticked by, one agonising second at a time.

~xxx~

* * *

I'm never sure if I should say this about my own characters (or my versions of them at any rate!) but I'm really liking this Edward. It's fun writing a hero who is a little unsure of himself, especially one who is so thoroughly smitten. What's your favourite sort of hero?

If you have any questions, I'll do my best to answer them in the A/Ns next chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N

Welcome to all the new readers from A Different Forest, and thank you so much for all the support being given to Princeward and Cinderbella. Thank you to my wonderful betas, Katmom and NKubie, for helping me find my way.I wasn't expecting the story to take this particular turn, and I _know _it won't please everyone, but I think this makes the most sense for our young couple. Here's hoping you feel the same!

* * *

Chapter 7

Chopping wood was one of Bella's least favourite chores. If all the time she had spent scrubbing, cleaning, and lifting had added any perceivable musculature to her arms she might have found it easier, but they remained stubbornly slender. After an hour of swinging the axe, they also ached. With the sled loaded as much as she dared—any more and she'd not be able to pull it back to the cabin—she took a break. After arching her body to ease the tension in her weary muscles, she scanned the nearby trees and bushes. Without a convenient thunder storm to cover the sound of the axe striking wood, her presence would be known to anyone in the vicinity. Her hope was whomever might be out there wouldn't be bothered to investigate, assuming she was a wood cutter about his business or a trapper replenishing his stockpile before the first snows fell. But there were no guarantees.

It wouldn't be the first time Bella had garnered the attention of dangerous men, her swift feet and knowledge of the forest's twisting trails saving her from capture in the past. The remoteness of the location was a protection, of sorts, as few travellers ventured this deep in the woods. But the king's son and heir had gone missing. There were sure to be soldiers scouring the trails that led away from the river, some intent on rescue, others on capture, and some to finish Edward off.

A branch snapped, and Bella tensed, but when she heard nothing more than the rustling of the wind in the leaves, she released the breath she was holding.

A group of men on horseback had passed within a stone's throw of her on the journey from the cabin. She'd tried to get a glimpse of them without being seen, but the shrubbery in which she'd taken cover had been too dense. There was a chance they were the king's men, but the risk of encountering deadly foe rather than dubious friend—soldiers not known for asking questions before they attacked—had discouraged her from making herself known. The only safe bet was to wait until Edward was able to walk before they ventured out together, so he could announce himself to his allies or hide with her from his enemies as necessary.

That it would take days before his ankle was strong enough to undertake the journey to the nearest village, days during which the two of them would be cooped up inside the cabin alone, wasn't Bella's doing.

Hefting the axe once more, she set to splitting the last log into kindling, a more enjoyable task than cutting up the thick branches of the fallen tree. At least, that was the excuse she gave herself for the smile that kept curving her lips . . . lips that would soon be kissing Edward. A shiver of anticipation coursed through her at the thought. Would his lips feel as soft as they looked? As warm? Would he taste as sweet as he smelled . . . well, sweet and salty with a hint of musk? He was a man, after all.

She pictured him brushing his fingers along her jaw as he had that morning, cupping her cheek with his hand before lowering his head to hers. She would definitely wrap her arms around his neck again, hugging him close to bring their bodies into contact.

Bella paused and fanned her face, the memory of her soft curves pressing against Edward's hard planes heating her blood more than her labours. Whether the tingle in her fingers was due to wielding the axe or in anticipation of threading her fingers through the curls that nestled at Edward's nape was uncertain, but she itched to feel them again.

How would they go about it? Standing would be a problem with his ankle, but the chair was too flimsy to support both their weight. Suggesting they lay on the bed would be terribly forward, though it made sense and wasn't _that _outrageous since he'd suggested something similar before she'd left to fetch the wood. The fire would have gone out by the time she returned, and the cabin would take time to warm. They could cuddle up together like they had the night before, like they had in front of the fire, but she'd be careful of his ankle this time. Edward was sure to be hungry, so she should probably cook his breakfast before they did anything . . . else.

Bella's smile faded, her conscience—and a latent dose of common sense—warring with her desires about both the morality and risks involved with pursuing her plan. A kiss was one thing, but anything more? Whatever else did, or did not occur between them, she would savour the kiss. Edward's kiss. The first man with whom she could imagine being intimate without fear or revulsion. It was hardly surprising. He was young, handsome, and he looked at her with both kindness and curiosity, as if he wanted to knowher,_ Bella_, not just take what he could regardless of her feelings or wishes. Then there was his intention to free her from Victoria's control. How could she not adore him?

Bella's smile returned, giving way to a grin. A life of her own choosing! Well, as much choice as a girl in her position could hope for. An independent source of income, a say in whether or not she took a husband, though she shied away from that possibility, her mind too filled with thoughts of the young man awaiting her return to even contemplate opening her heart to another.

If things went as she hoped, she would have options but not limitless ones. She couldn't choose a life with Edward, of course, not one of respectability.

Bending down to collect the kindling and place it in a sack, Bella tried to ignore the insidious thought that worked its way into her mind, but it refused to be pushed aside.

_Princes and kings kept mistresses_, or so she'd heard. _Would Edward?_

"That's not an option," she muttered, hefting the bag onto the sled with the logs she had already piled in place. "Edward is a good man, honourable, decent." He _might _be swayed to lie with her, though she had her doubts, but he wouldn't betray his wife once he was wed. "You've no right to contemplate such a thing," she added more firmly.

"And which 'Edward' shouldn't you be contemplating, lass?"

At the sound of a man's voice behind her, Bella lunged for the axe. She grasped the handle with both hands, but before she could swing it, the intruder's booted foot came down hard, holding the blade firmly in place. Looking up, she found herself inches from the tip of a very pointed sword. Stupid girl. Caught up in a silly fantasy, she hadn't heard the tall, fair-haired man's approach.

"Speak truthfully, and you'll come to no harm." His reasonable tone was at odds with his aggressive stance. He gestured for her to stand, and Bella did so, scrambling backwards in the process. She darted a glance to either side, but her escape routes were blocked by other men, soldiers by the look of them. One was holding a crossbow, his arrow pointed straight at her heart. A whimper escaped her lips, and her knees threatened to buckle.

"There's no need to be afraid," the first man said. "Just tell us what you know, and we'll leave you in peace."

Under the circumstances, Bella was not inclined to believe him. "Whose men are you?" she asked, determined not to betray Edward, no matter what they did to her.

"We'll ask the questions." The crossbow-wielding man strode forward and grabbed hold of her arm. "Now tell us what you know."

"Easy, Demetri." The man with the sword stepped forward. "She might be able to help."

Bella winced, but the dark-haired Demetri's grip did not ease. He seemed much rougher than the fair-haired gentleman, who was dressed too finely for a mere soldier. With his cloak hidden from her view, she couldn't tell if he was one of Caius's men out to finish what they'd started, though something about his eyes gave her a glimmer of hope.

"Release her," he said, and the soldier did so after giving her arm a shake. Bella clutched the aching limb with her other hand and eyed them both warily.

"I am Baron Whitlock, loyal to the new king of Volterra, Carlisle." He lowered his sword and gave a brief nod of his head. "Now tell me about this Edward of whom you spoke."

"Show me proof." Bella raised her chin, grateful her skirt hid her knocking knees though they were probably all too aware of how terrified she was. What hope did a young woman have against grown men?

"Proof?" Demetri raised a hand, and she cringed in anticipation of being struck. "How dare you speak to the baron in such a manner! We're searching for the King's son, Prince Edward, and you will tell us what you know."

"Easy." Lord Whitlock caught hold of Demetri's arm. "Living under Aro's rule will have taught her to be cautious." Turning to Bella, he brought his cloak over his shoulder so she could see the insignia—a red lion, not Cauis's black dragon. "Prince Edward is my friend, and I hold grave fears for his safety. I found his cloak near the river, rent with an arrow hole. Please, tell us what you know."

Swayed by the sincerity in his blue eyes, and hoping she wasn't making a terrible mistake, Bella gave a jerky nod.

"The prince was shot in the back by one of Caius's men. A captain."

"The bloody fool." Demetri turned and paced a few yards. "What the hell was he thinking riding off alone?"

"He wanted to protect his brother and companions," Bella said in Edward's defence. "He knew of the trail through the pass and thought he could outrun the attackers' horses."

"You've spoken to him? He's alive?" Lord Whitlock's eyes flashed. "Where is he?"

"He's at my cabin, hurt . . . but not too badly," she added when he blanched. "His back is only bruised, as the arrow lodged in his satchel, but he sprained his ankle in the fall."

"Take us to him. Immediately!" Demetri demanded. He was the more volatile of the two, and had bruised her arm, but Bella was inclined to forgive his fierce manner in light of his obvious concern for Edward.

"Very well." She took a hesitant step towards the sled, reaching for the ropes with which to pull it.

"Leave that," Lord Whitlock said, gesturing for her to precede him to the trail. "We'll move quicker on horseback."

"I can't." At Bella's refusal, he raised a brow. "The fire will have gone out. I left Edward in bed to try and keep warm, but the cabin will be freezing."

Both men stared at her for a moment before the baron spoke, his tone laced with bemusement. "You have our thanks for taking care of _Prince _Edward, but we need to move swiftly. The palace is in an uproar."

Bella shrugged. "Be that as it may, I don't know how quickly he'll be able to move with his injuries, and all he's had for breakfast is an apple. I promised him a cooked meal on my return."

And he had promised her a kiss, foolish tears stinging the back of her eyes at the realisation she had missed her chance. She should be relieved these men weren't intent on harming her, and she was, but she couldn't help wishing another day—or two—had passed before they'd been found.

Not wanting to have to return later, Bella straightened her drooping shoulders. "If you help me with the sled, it won't take us long to get to the cabin."

Lord Whitlock eyed her for a moment before nodding. "Very well." He gestured to the soldier standing off to the side, and the man came forward and grabbed hold of the ropes to the sled.

"My lord," Demetri protested. "We don't have time for this."

Turning his back, Lord Whitlock led Bella toward the path. "We'll ride ahead and leave a trail. The girl's gone to a lot of trouble, and it doesn't sound as if the prince will be able to move quickly at any rate. What were you planning on cooking him?" he asked Bella, a smile quirking his lip.

"Griddle cakes," she said, almost running to keep pace with his long stride. When they reached the trail, another group of soldiers waited with the horses. The baron vaulted onto his steed then reached down for Bella's hand.

"You can ride behind me," he said before issuing orders to his men to split into two groups, one to accompany them and the other to follow behind with her treasure trove of split logs. It all seemed a bit incongruous to Bella as she found herself perched on the back of the enormous black horse, like something out of an odd tale.

But not a fairy tale, she reminded herself on the ride back to the cabin. She wasn't even going to get a kiss from her prince.

~xxx~

Edward couldn't wait any longer. He struggled into his breeches and stockings and was just about to tug on his one good boot, intent on going after Bella no matter how foolish an undertaking, when he heard the sound of riders approaching. His right hand reached for his sword at its usual place on his left hip, but then he recalled it had been lost in the fall. His knife would have to do, but he didn't rate his chances very high in close combat and with only one leg to stand on. Hiding behind the door, he waited, his heart hammering in his chest. He would not go down without a fight, and if whoever had found him had hurt Bella, so help him he would make them pay.

The door creaked open. The sound of muffled voices reached him, and he strained to hear what was being said.

"Shhh," a woman's voice scolded. "He might be sleeping."

"Well, it's time he was damned well awake!" a male voice boomed.

Bella? Demetri?

Edward wrenched open the door, and Bella fell into his embrace. She squealed at the sight of the knife that he'd instinctively brought up to her throat, and he tossed it aside.

"Thank God you're all right." He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I was worried something had happened to you."

"Something did happen." She looked up into his eyes, her beautiful smile wreathed with sadness. "Your men found me. They've come to take you home."

Edward lifted his head to see the stunned expressions on his rescuers' faces. Stepping aside so Jasper and Demetri could enter the tiny cabin, he nevertheless kept his arm securely around Bella's waist.

"I hope you didn't frighten or harm her in any way," he said, his jaw tightening at the thought. "Bella saved my life."

"Which wouldn't have been at risk if you hadn't tried to act the hero." Demetri scowled and looked him over, taking note of the foot he held aloft. Rolling his eyes at his bodyguard's typically acerbic tone, Edward hobbled over to the bed with Bella's assistance. Once he'd taken a seat, the young woman he'd been ready to fight . . . and die for . . . at his side, he faced his friends.

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"The right thing!" Demetri exploded, snapping his mouth shut when Jasper put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Edward, your father is beside himself, and as for your mother . . ." Jasper shook his head.

Edward winced, taking comfort from the way Bella stroked his back with her hand. He'd worried about his brother but hadn't thought too much about how his disappearance would affect his parents.

"Emmett is unharmed?" he asked, releasing a breath when Jasper, his best friend of many years, gave a brief nod.

"But the alliance is on shaky ground. King Marcus wasn't too impressed when it was pointed out that Prince Emmett was next in line. He wants a sober, restraining hand on the dual kingdoms, not a womaniser who likes to party late and imbibe freely . . . _his _words not mine." Jasper raised a hand when Edward would have spoken in his brother's defence. "You've got some serious reparations to make to Princess Rosalie who appeared equally unimpressed by your brother's attempts to comfort her in her grief."

"Grief?" Edward's brows rose. "She's only met me the once, and if I recall, seemed far more taken with Emmett. Though what the hell was he doing cosying up to my future betrothed?"

"You'd have to ask him that." Jasper looked pointedly to the arm Edward had wrapped around Bella. "Do keep in mind that a lot can happen in a day and people sometimes act out of character when under duress."

Edward snorted. "What, exactly, would be 'out of character' with my brother seeking to charm a beautiful woman? Though I would have thought he'd wait until my death was actually confirmed to make his move. Did he seem at _all _distressed by my disappearance?"

Jasper shrugged. "He was the only one not panicking or crying up a storm, well him and Rosalie, as he said he would have _known _if you'd come to serious harm. I'm not sure what her excuse is, other than that I don't think she's overly impressed by either of the Volterran princes. But when it comes to acting out of character, I was referring to you." He folded his arms and looked to Bella again. "I'd advise against going into too much detail about your sojourn in the forest upon your return."

With a blush staining her cheeks, Bella stood and crossed to the fire or what was left of it. The temperature in the cabin hadn't dropped too far since the flames died out, but it plummeted at Jasper's words. Edward had been so looking forward to Bella's return, the fire's rekindling, a cooked breakfast, and then snuggling up with her in bed while they waited for the room to warm. He hung his head. How he wanted that kiss—and more—but he'd been jerked back to reality like a daydreamer receiving a painful blow to the head.

"Damnation! If Marcus hears about this, we'll be skewered to the walls." Demetri started to pace, only managing two steps before having to turn back.

"There's nothing to hear," Edward interjected before his volatile minder could continue, in no mood for a haranguing. "Bella came to my rescue when I'd been knocked senseless, helped me get away before Caius's men could return to finish the job, and kindly offered me shelter during yesterday's storm. That is all."

Demetri harrumphed and Jasper raised a brow, but Edward's attention was focused on Bella. He hated that her shoulders were hunched, her gaze studiously averted from his as she prepared some sort of batter in a large bowl.

"I intend to make sure she is rewarded for her hospitality," he added, wanting to reassure her that he'd not forgotten his promise.

"Pay for her silence you mean," Demetri muttered on his way out the door, returning with an armful of firewood. After dumping it in the wood box he turned to Edward. "I'll wait outside with the men and make sure they set up a secure perimeter. I doubt we'll face a head-on assault, as we're too many in number, but I wouldn't put it past Caius's men to try picking us off one by one from the trees."

Bella flinched, her startled gaze seeking out Edward's.

"It's all right," he said, hobbling over to kneel beside her. "I won't let anything happen to you, but you'll need to come with us when we go. It's not safe here anymore."

"No, I suppose it isn't." She graced him with a tremulous smile before turning her attention back to tending the fire. "Breakfast won't be long," she added. "You should go back to the bed and raise your foot while you can, as I doubt the journey will be easy for you. Lord Whitlock, can take the chair."

Edward did as she suggested, but he wasn't interested in engaging in conversation with his friend. He'd be thrown back into the milieu of politics and responsibility soon enough. For now, he just wanted to watch Bella, the way her hair hung in a mahogany wave down her back, the way her lithe form moved nimbly from fire to table and back again, the way her capable hands prepared a veritable mountain of griddle cakes, evidence of her generosity and a degree of consideration for others he found difficult to countenance. He especially didn't want to miss a single shy glance she sent his way. Treasuring each one, he wondered how in the name of the three kingdoms he was going to survive their parting.

The meal of warm griddle cakes and hot tea was delicious, Bella surprising Edward with a jar of honey she willingly shared, but the atmosphere was strained. While she cleared away the dishes and packed up her meagre belongings, he donned his non-mangled boot, ruing the fact he'd have to renege on his offer to gift her the pair.

"Would you give us a moment?" he asked Jasper, gesturing with a jerk of his chin towards the door.

"Are you sure that's wise?" His friend had taken the hint from Edward, speaking only of inconsequential matters and mostly remaining silent. But at the glare from his prince, he realised he'd crossed a line with his comment. "All right, I'm going." He raised his hands and backed towards the door when Edward half rose from his seat, his hands fisting of their own accord.

Facing Bella head on, Edward waited for her to meet his gaze. "I apologise for their insinuations. I'll make sure nothing is said that could harm your reputation."

"Oh, well, that's neither here nor there." Bella ducked her head. "I'm just a servant, though it would probably be better if my guardian weren't apprised of . . ." She flapped her hands before gripping them together.

Closing the distance between them, Edward gently prised them apart and linked their fingers together. "I haven't forgotten my promise, Bella. It might take me a while to arrange, but I'll make sure you're taken care of. I won't . . . forget you."

"Nor I you," she whispered, her lovely brown eyes filled with something he suspected might be longing. If her expression in any way reflected his own desires, then regret over their imminent separation and hunger for what might have been was but a small part of what she was feeling. Groaning, he pulled her towards him. She came willingly, resting her head against his chest while he encircled her with his arms.

"Bella," he murmured her name, finding it impossible to imagine a time when it would no longer hover on his lips. She lifted her head, and he gazed down into her eyes, knowing they would haunt his dreams.

"Is it wrong of me to want you to keep your other promise also?" she asked, and he tilted his head to the side. "To _kiss _me?" she added, mouthing the words on the faintest breath of sound.

Edward didn't need to be asked twice. Lowering his head, he captured her lips, the pink cupid bows that had gifted him with the sweetest of smiles. They were soft, so soft, and silken. He wanted to savour, to cherish, to worship them with delicate caresses and gentle, teasing touches, but Bella had other ideas. Her arms came up around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she hugged him close and pressed her mouth to his. Another groan reverberated in his chest, and he answered her with equal passion, tasting, seeking, devouring her mouth with his lips. At the same time he roamed, mapped, and memorised her supple body with his hands.

Threatened with the loss of his balance, he rested his injured foot on the ground and was forced to stifle a wince. Bella went to pull away, but Edward was having none of it. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he manoeuvred them backward the short distance to the bed and then sat down on the edge, pulling her onto his lap.

She squeezed him tight, wriggling in his lap as she strove to get closer.

He pulled her against him, but it could never be close enough.

Their mouths moved together as one, her soft whimpers firing the desire in his loins. When he traced her lips with his tongue, she opened to him, her reaction to his invasion of her mouth tentative but welcoming. Her taste, peppermint and honey and something indefinable, something uniquely _Bella, _overwhelmed his senses. As he stroked the recesses of her mouth, she responded in kind, hesitantly at first then more confidently. The combination of their shared breaths, entwined tongues, and her writhing sinuously in his arms threatened to bring him undone.

Edward was certain this was Bella's first kiss, evidenced more in the sheer wonder of her responses than her inexperience. It might as well have been his first kiss, for all the ones that had come before paled into insignificance in comparison.

He never . . . ever . . . wanted it to end.

A noise from outside dragged Edward back to the present, and he forced himself to gentle the kiss.

"Bella, Bella," he chanted her name against her lips, his words a prayer, a dedication, a plea. Was there no way for them to be together?

"Oh how I wish . . ." she echoed his thoughts, breaking away to look into his eyes. Releasing her grip on his shoulders, her hands came around to cup his face.

"You are so dear to me," she whispered, "and I only want your happiness."

Edward shook his head, mirroring her actions and gently placing his hands either side of her face. "But how can I be happy without you?"

Bella had no answer for him, her soft, sad gaze dropping to his mouth. His heart felt like a lead weight in his chest, but Edward didn't hesitate to grant her unspoken request. This kiss, their _last _kiss, was sweeter than the first. Infusing his touch with tenderness, he brushed his lips across hers first one way then the other. Bella followed his lead, their lips clinging and caressing, until eyes closed, breath coming in soft pants, they drew apart and rested their foreheads together.

"Your Highness? It's time we got moving."

Edward stifled a curse. Reality beckoned, unwelcome but unavoidable. The time for day dreaming was over.

~xxx~

* * *

Nope...I'm going to keep on dreaming!

Q and A

Yes, I guarantee an HEA but the angst quotient is rising.

Emmett and Rosalie? Well they are a canon couple, but I have a feeling this particular Rosalie may have something to say about the matter. In fact, she has a story all her own demanding to be written when this one is finished!

Will we meet Alice? Soon, and she has her own tale to tell, a sad one, though a tall, fair-haired baron might bring a smile to her face.

Thanks for sharing your views on what makes a hero. I loved the list of characteristics you guys came up with - a sense of humour, sweet, kind, charming, confident but a little bit of insecure, smart, a little geeky, brave, shy, well-read, considerate of others, strong yet humble, helpful but willing to admit when he needs help, flawed, imperfect, protective, pensive, conflicted, and even a little tortured. I loved that nobody said rich, handsome or powerful. Real heroes come in all shapes and sizes!

Thank you for reading and a special thank you to those who take the time to leave a review. I'm sorry I'm not doing well with replies, but I've been swamped editing my soon-to-be published stories, designing covers, redesigning my webpage, and writing more of Princeward and Cinderbella's tale, of course, but I appreciate every one!


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